


Out of Sight, Out of Mind

by squeezenz



Category: Zoo (TV)
Genre: Alternative Future, F/M, Hybrids, Mind Control, Road Trip, alternative character history, human hybrids, relationships, restart of season 3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:08:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 105,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27339931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squeezenz/pseuds/squeezenz
Summary: They saved the world once, do they have what it takes to do it again? A reboot of the start of Season 3.  - Year is 2026 - the team is scattered -  Mitch is presumed dead, Jackson wanders the west coast as Dylan Greene rounding up refugees, Abraham is trying to cure the sterility crisis, the Barrier is a reality, the hybrids are running amok, Jamie was never part of the team, Abigail is on the loose,  there are no more planes flying out from the west coast of the US and if anyone is still in the region by the end of the year - they will stay there -  permanently.
Relationships: Abraham Kenyatta/Dariela Kenyatta, Clementine Lewis/Sam Parker, Jackson Oz/Tessa Williams, Jamie Campbell/Mitch Morgan
Kudos: 3





	1. Refuge

10/10/2020

**_ Out of Sight, Out of Mind _ **

_**Synopsis** :  _ This kicks off at the start of series 3. It is ten years since the people that saved the world from the defiant pupil revolution among the animals were a team. Mitch Morgan is missing, presumed dead, Jackson Oz has a new identity behind the barrier as Dylan Greene, Dariela and Abe Kenyata are still married and their son, Isaac is now ten years old. Jamie Campbell, apart from a telephone interview with Mitch Morgan back in 2015, was not involved with the team in any way. Clementine Lewis is with her partner, Sam Parker in New York and is expecting a baby, which is against all odds as the human population is currently sterile from the drop of the TX14 gas retro-engineered by Robert Oz and released in 2016 by the Shepherds. Construction on the barrier was started in 2020 and finished in 2022, containing most of the hybrid proliferation on the west coast of the States, crossing the border north into Canada and south into Mexico. Ninety percent of the population trapped in the western states have been evacuated. Those that remain are being sought by Dylan Greene and his teams of ex-military under the heading of the Pacific Evacuation Force, to be gathered at Refugee centers and evacuated to the east. The initiative has been running ever since the last commercial plane flew to safety over the barrier in 2023, the number of people being rescued becoming less with each passing day. At the end of the year, anyone left in the region will remain there...permanently.

**_ Chapter one - Refuge _ **

**_ November, 2026 - Foothills below Sacajawea Peak, Oregon _ **

She poked at the smoldering embers, cursing the rain still trickling down, not heavy but persistent from the trees around her camp, her meager cover doing little to keep her, or the fire, very dry. The day was bleak and overcast, the same as the day before, and the one before that. Nothing she owned, and it was little enough, was dry. She already wore every item of clothing she had just to keep warm, her boots tight from the three pairs of socks she wore, her feet still numb despite the layers. She had been lucky to find a long-dead fallen tree that she could plunder for rotten dry wood at its core, the supply dwindling with every minute the fire burned. If she didn't find a house or settlement tomorrow, her stomach would have to go empty - again. Even as she thought about it, a low growl rumbled in her midsection, reminding her just how long ago her last meal had been. Cursing under her breath she hunched her bent legs up closer to her body, making herself as small as possible and hopefully retaining more heat. It was a futile gesture, but she had nothing else to do. The steady sound of the rain pattering on the leaves strewn over the ground lulled her into a doze, her attention drifting from attending the fire into a dream state.

Dylan Greene held up a hand to halt his small cavalcade of refugees. His lions were out of sight, but not beyond the reach of his mind, the message they were sending indicated that a lone human was roughly a hundred meters off to the left. 

“Tess, we'll take a rest break. I'll leave two of the boys here on guard with you. We won't be long, but keep an eye out.” He whistled to his pack, who dutifully split up to leave two of their number behind, the rest already fanning out to find the human they sensed.

Leaving Tess to handle the people, Dylan gave his senses free rein, jogging through the forest, his pride flanking him while two others ran on ahead. He caught a whiff of smoke from a wood fire, the smell getting stronger the closer he got to what turned out to be a pathetic encampment. The figure hunched close to the damp embers didn't stir when he appeared among the trees, his lions surrounding the area, always on alert. 

“Hey!” he shouted, not bothering to muffle his boots on approach. “Hey, wake up!”

He was almost on top of her when the figure jerked violently and fell over backward. Dylan almost laughed, but the girl looked exhausted, hungry, and cold and unlikely to have survived if he hadn't, or rather his lions hadn't sniffed her out. 

“Look, you can't stay here. I'm Dylan, I'm with the Pacific Evacuation Force. We're heading to the refugee center. Can you walk?” He held out his hand. The girl eyed him warily but after a brief hesitation, held out her own gloved hand for him to take and pull her up onto her feet. She staggered but soon righted herself.

“Are the lions tame?” she asked, sniffing and rubbing at her face with the back of her glove. 

“Nope. But I have trained them to respond to a whistle. Don't try and pet them,” he warned before turning on his heel to lead the way back to where he'd left Tess and the others. 

“Wouldn't dream of it,” the girl muttered, hugging her arms across her chest and starting to follow. The lions fell into a familiar flanking pattern and followed the two humans, happy to be going back to where they'd left their pack mates. 

Once back with the others, Dylan waved them forward to continue the tramp back to the rescue center, a staging post before being collected via trucks to reach the airport and be taken over the barrier to a sanctuary beyond it. 

Jamie tucked herself on the end of the rag-tag column of refugees, her disheveled and dirty state mirrored to some degree by all of them. She was glad she'd had time at the start to be well supplied, but now her resources were gone, her stomach growling, and the temperature in the woods barely above a few degrees. Doggedly she kept walking, one foot in front of the other, her eyes fixed on the feet doing the same in front of her. Nobody spoke or chattered, the lions keeping a silent vigil as they padded silently through the trees, never far away from the leader, Dylan. Only the occasional call of a bird broke the eerie silence, the perpetual drizzle making her keep her head down. She looked up only briefly to see that Dylan and the woman at the front talked frequently and sometimes with heat, but obviously very comfortable together. They both carried military-grade guns, fingers close to the triggers, alert to their surroundings. 

**_ Near the town of Joseph, Oregon. _ **

It was starting to get gloomy under the trees, the day drawing in, fear rising inside her at the thought of camping out for another night. The lions that had been pacing beside the column suddenly vanished, slipping into the gloom as if given the signal to disappear. She lifted her head and saw the ramparts of an enormous wall appearing in the distance, all detail invisible because of distance. 

“Is that the barrier?” she asked the person in front, who shrugged but didn't deign to answer. The path they'd been following had turned into a road, the surface pockmarked and covered in leaves, but still a road with faded white markings and cracks at the edges. 

“Not far to go now, we're nearly there!” Dylan shouted down the line, the refugees picking up the pace at the thought of shelter and a meal. A sound behind her made Jamie stare at the darkening woodland around them, another bellow making her bunch up as more of the refugees turned to see what was making the noise. 

Dylan was shouting, his gun raised. “Don't stop now, pick up the pace!” Another roar sounded closer, Jamie forcing her chilled, tired legs to start jogging, her breath puffing out in stark white clouds, Dylan and Tessa moving down the line, encouraging the people to move faster and head in the direction they pointed to. The lions suddenly appeared, Dylan indicating for them to form a rear defense, the whistle sounding shrilly above the panting of the group now running for their lives. Jamie stumbled when the ground shimmied, her feet staggering as the road rocked. Dylan and Tess were standing, feet planted, guns raised to meet whatever was coming head-on. Up ahead a high corrugated metal gate appeared out of the gloom, lights flickering on as people pushed the gate open, ushering the gasping refugees into the safety of the compound, others running out to support Dylan and Tess in defending the wall. 

Jamie didn't see what happened after she entered the fragile security of the refugee center, pushed and jostled forward with the others until they were inside a building, a roller door pulled down behind them, the air several degrees warmer than the outside, lights very bright after the gloom of the road. 

A blanket was thrown around her shoulders and a hot mug thrust into her hands, Jamie almost dropping it, her legs giving out until someone put an arm around her and helped her to a battered armchair and lowered her into it. 

“Tha-nk you,” she gasped, the warm air seeping into her cold lungs, her breathing starting to ease. She set down the mug carefully then set about freeing her hands from her filthy gloves, using her teeth to pull the fingers free, her nails black. Once free she wrapped her grubby fingers gratefully around the hot mug and bent her head to inhale the savory smell, her nose tickled by the steam rising off the soup. All around her were others doing the same, some sat on battered but comfortable sofas and chairs, others laying down on thin mattresses on the concrete floor. Other people were starting to crouch down and ask questions, did they need medical help? Did they know any of the other people in their group? When had they last eaten? Did they have any underlying conditions that needed attention?

A woman came around with a clipboard and started asking for basic information like names, ages, and where they'd come from. When it came to her turn, Jamie answered slowly, giving her name and age, and where she was from. 

“You give your home town as Fulsom, Louisianna, so why are you here?”

“Portland, via New York. I'm an investigative reporter. We travel a lot.”

“Fair enough. Next of kin?”

“All dead.”

“I'm sorry,” the woman replied, making a note. “Married? Children?”

“No to both. Left it too late, I guess.” Jamie gave a wan smile then buried her face in the mug and let the soup slide down her throat, warming her from the inside. The woman scrutinized her face. 

“You look a little blue around the lips. I'll get the doc to check you over.”

Jamie looked up. “I just need to get warm. Any chance of some dry clothes?” she rasped. 

The woman smiled. “Better than that, after you've been given the all-clear, you can have a hot shower.”

“Forgotten what one feels like,” she muttered, sipping the soup. The woman patted her on the shoulder and turned to leave, approaching another of the women refugees to start asking questions. 

Soon the woman who had been quizzing her was talking to a tall man with a full beard on the other side of the room, pointing to where Jamie sat. 

The soup was all gone when she was approached by the man with the beard. He crouched down in front of her and stared into her face.

“Carey thought you looked a bit blue, are you having trouble breathing?” His voice was rough, his mouth hidden behind the overgrowth of dark beard, his head covered by a black beanie pulled well down, his eyes behind their glasses inspecting her like a bug, his expression one of a permanent bad mood. His hands were encased in latex gloves, although he was dressed like everyone else, in heavy winter gear. He raised his hand to press the back of it to her forehead, the scowl not leaving his face. He took her silence as compliance and checked the glands on either side of her neck, lastly taking hold of her wrist to test her pulse. 

“You're icy,” he commented, letting her wrist go, his gaze entirely impersonal, his manner brusque. “And soaking wet. You need to get out of these clothes. Come with me.” He grasped her arm above the elbow and rose to his feet, hoisting her out of the chair, the blanket falling off her shoulders. 

“Where are we going?” Jamie asked, her voice hoarse, a sudden tickle making her cough. 

The man hauled her along beside him, stopping only to relay what he was doing to another woman standing at a desk and collating paperwork. Jamie remained mute, too tired to wonder why the angry man was dragging her behind him, which he did after a few minutes. He pushed through a swing door and down a corridor, muttering to himself as he went, but not addressing any comments to her. At last, just when she felt she was ready to drop, he manhandled her into a room full of steam and the smell of soap. He propelled Jamie towards a cubicle and ordered her to get out of her gear. She hesitated, staring up at him in mute protest at such high handedness. He waited, arms folded over his chest, his frown growing more ferocious the longer she didn't move. 

“For fuck's sake, what are you waiting for?” he growled, reaching forward to start the process himself. Jamie batted his hands away and started to attempt to undress, but her hands shook so much she was making a complete hash of what should have been a simple operation. Seeing her struggle, he pushed her hands away and started to peel off layer after layer, tossing the chilled clothing onto an ever-growing pile of bits and pieces, her emaciated frame appearing from under its camouflage down to her well-worn bra. There he stopped, starting instead on her boots, unlacing and pulling them off, almost pulling her over in the process. He peeled off her soggy socks, her feet rebelling at being exposed to the cold, tiled floor, her several pairs of trousers landing on the heap with the rest of her clothes. Now down to her plain, serviceable underwear, the man reached into the cubicle and turned on the shower, the water already warm out of the showerhead, making her gasp, her skin stinging from the contact and force of the water. She was still shaking, her arms coming up to cover her meager chest, her hair hanging down her back in dark tendrils.

The man had stepped back, removed his glasses, and peeled off his jacket, before turning the tap on, watching his patient as she simply stood under the water, her eyes closed, her thin frame looking completely fragile and incapable of supporting her. Pressing his lips together in a thin line, he reached in and snatched the bottle of liquid soap, before rolling his sleeves up, prepared to wash the girl himself as she seemed to have no interest in doing it anytime soon. 

The first touch of his latex covered hands on her skin made her jerk and flinch away to press herself into the corner, her hair blinding her.

Surprised, the man paused, then quickly reached for the giant sponge hanging from the tap and soaped that up before applying it all over the woman's shivering body. By now, others were entering the shower room, some accompanied by helpers, all of them shedding their stinking clothes to get into the showers and soap off the days and weeks of grime and dirt, clean for possibly the first time in months. 

His own patient was allowing him to pull her about, to turn her and scrub her body from top to bottom, her hair given a thorough wash as well, his fingers digging into her scalp while she stood there mute. She didn't complain when he searched for a found a nail brush to clean her hands thoroughly, the dirt sloughing off like muddy skin. The tatty bra and knickers had to go, the girl only batting feebly at his hands, before giving in, his rough soaping no more intimate than an owner washing a dog. Satisfied she was as clean as he could make her, he let her lean against the shower wall and just let the hot water pour over her. 

Kicking the pile of soaked and dirty clothes towards the laundry bags, he plucked a large towel off the shelf and returned to the girl, reaching in to turn off the water, then wrapping her completely in the towel and rubbing her vigorously. Her lips no longer looked blue, but a more normal pink, the dark circles under her eyes still evident, but she was no longer shivering as badly. His quick inspection of her body informed him she was grossly underweight, her ribs and collar bone standing out starkly, bruises in various stages of healing marking the white skin in several places, every sinew, and tendon clearly visible in her hands and feet. When she was wrapped up again in a dry towel he spoke to her.

“Can you walk?” He waited, watching her eyes slowly open to stare back at him. She nodded and he stood back to allow her to step out of the cubicle. All around the room people, men, and women were getting clean and warm, some already done, others taking advantage and soaking themselves for as long as possible. 

Jamie tried to lift her feet over the slight ledge of the shower box but even that small effort exhausted her, her knees buckling and pitching her forward. Anticipating just such an event, the man scooped her up into his arms, her body cocooned in the towel, and carried her effortlessly out of the room. Outside he met one of the helpers. 

“This one needs a bed, are they ready?” he barked, shifting the nearly weightless body in his arms. 

“Room five should be ready in the women's quarter. Take any bed.”

The man grunted and walked on, finding the room and shouldering it open. He chose a bed closest to the radiator, holding his charge with one hand against his own body, reaching down with the other to peel back the bedding. Leaving the dry towel around her, he tugged the sheets and blankets up over her body, tucking them in around her. Jamie lay insensible, eyes closed, white-faced against the white pillows, her hair no longer black but showing its true color of red-gold.

The man looking down at her noted the natural hue and raised a bushy eyebrow. “Hmm, so the drapes match the carpet. Good to know.” Peeling off the latex gloves he threw them into a waste container and turned to leave. He nearly didn't catch the whisper from his patient. 

“Thank you.”

He paused and cast a glance back, but the woman was out for the count. Shaking his head he stomped out of the dormitory, his duty discharged for the time being. 

Jamie had no idea how long she slept before someone was shaking her awake to take a combination of pills with a small glass of water. She did as asked, and the woman left, Jamie sinking back into her warm bed and falling asleep again instantly. 

Noises in the room around her roused her the second time, an opaque pink curtain pulled two-thirds of the way around her bed, shielding her from the room and the other occupants. There was no window in the wall facing her, so she had no idea if it was day or night. Feeling no inclination to leave her toasty cocoon, she lay and listened instead. The women sounded older, but having no idea how many of her group were women to start with, the clothing all bulky and dark-colored, she didn't know if they were residents or newcomers. Soon the voices petered out, the last occupant shutting the door behind her. Alone, Jamie cataloged her aches and pains, slowly stretching out her limbs to gage what state her muscles were in, after the long trek. The door swung open to the dormitory and she tensed under the covers, forgetting that she was safe now, no immediate threats to life or limb. Someone approached her curtained alcove and poked their head around. 

“You're awake at last. How are you feeling?”

Jamie stared back at a man she hadn't seen so far. He was young, clean-shaven, slender, and not as bundled up in clothes as she'd come to expect. 

“What happened to the other guy?” she asked, pushing herself back against the pillows, keeping the sheets pulled up to her chin. 

“Other guy?”

“The one that..um..helped me, then put me here?”

“Sorry, there's any number of aides who help the newcomers. What did he look like?” He sat on the side of her bed, tilting his head like a bird.

“Bushy beard, glasses, grumpy-looking?”

“That's Doctor Thomas. A bit like a bear with a sore head?”

Jamie nodded. The man laughed. “Off scowling at somebody. Forget him, you've got me today. How's the head?”

“My head is fine. Whatever they gave me last night seems to be doing some good.”

The man got up, reaching for the clipboard at the end of her bed. After reading the brief notes, he replaced it. “Looks like you're through the worst of it. But you are seriously underweight. Time we fed you.” He reached under the bed and lifted up a pile of assorted clothing. “Can't guarantee it will fit very well, but it is clean and dry and will keep you warm.”

Jamie sent him a tentative smile. “Thank you.”

“Right. Well. I'll leave you to get dressed. The bathroom is at the end of the hall on the right, mess hall is end of the hall in the other direction. Got it?”

Jamie nodded and he turned to go. 

“How long will I be here?” she asked. 

“No idea. Until the next pick up, whenever that is. Bloody gap keeps getting wider every time.”

She stared after him, pondering his cryptic answer. Pushing back the covers she pulled the clothing over to inspect what was there.

The mess hall was big, bright, and noisy. Packed with refugees, the search teams, and a rotating collection of staff coming onto and off their shifts. Jamie approached the food counter and joined the end of the line. By the time she reached the end, her tray was full and she turned to find a place to sit. She spotted a small, empty table over the other side of the room and wended her way past the other tables to reach it. Pulling out the chair, she sat for a moment contemplating what she'd eat first. 

“Start off with only half otherwise you'll puke it all up.”

She looked up to see the back view of the man who'd cleaned her up when she arrived. His voice has been as surly as before, not bothering to stop and ask about her, just headed for a table some distance away, plonked down his tray, and started to eat. 

Jamie looked at the offering's she'd chosen and started to slowly eat her way through them, taking a little of everything, but not all of anything. In the end, she only managed a little less than half of what she'd served herself, adhering to Doctor Thomas's advice despite not needing it. After disposing of her leftovers and the tray, she decided to explore the complex, wandering over to the wall that displayed a map of the refugee center, her finger tracing over the laminated surface before deciding where to go first. 

When she looked back at the mess hall, she couldn't see the bearded doctor anywhere, a niggle of annoyance making her shrug it off, turning her attention to finding a route to the outside. 

The sun put in an appearance later in the day and she found a sheltered corner to soak up the sun's heat. It had been a long time since she'd felt so civilized, her stomach full, her body and hair squeaky clean and her clothes laundered. The compound was surrounded by a thick wall made up of metal plates and wooden bracing, topped with razor wire, the only apparent weak spot being the double corrugated iron gate, but what it lacked in substance it made up for in armaments, a turret either side manned with armed guards and large machine guns. Every couple of hours they would open to allow either a team of men on foot or in a vehicle to come and go. The vehicles were as heavily armored as the men and as well equipped with guns. In her line of sight was a collection of none military vehicles, all looking like something that had escaped from a Mad Max movie. 

She was just deciding to go in when she saw Doctor Thomas stride out of one of the buildings and climb into one of the oddly adorned vehicles. It had started life as a double cab ute with a canopy on the back, but now it looked more like a military troop carrier with reinforced plating from top to bottom and heavy screens protecting all the windows – front, back, and sides. The car fired up and she watched him drive it slowly out of the compound, the gates opening for him to leave. Not knowing where he was going or if he'd be back, she turned her attention to the smell coming from the mess hall, her mouth-watering in anticipation of another meal – the second in one day. Getting to her feet she pulled up her hoodie and wandered in that direction, joining others doing the same. 

Laying on her bed for the second night, she stared up at the ceiling, one arm behind her head. The curtains were still pulled around her bed to give her privacy, but she didn't feel so exhausted after a restful day, so her brain wasn't ready to settle. There had been a lecture after the evening meal, just for the latest arrivals, to fill them in on what was going to happen next. She found out that a transport plane would be sent to collect all the refugees sometime in the next few weeks or so, that they would all be trucked to the local airport outside the small town of Joseph, just north of the refugee center and beside the Wallowa River as soon as it arrived, the plane on the ground for the very shortest period of time, so everyone had to be prepared at a moments notice to decamp. Once aboard, they would be flown over the barrier to land at Eppley Airfield, in east Omaha. From there the refugees would be processed to be dispersed to various camps set up in Nebraska to accommodate them until the next stage. They could expect to stay at one of the camps from six months to a year unless they had family or relatives elsewhere in the states, in which case they'd be bused to wherever they were. Refugees were expected to fill out several forms detailing their former lives, in part to help sort out a future for them, but also to act as a census to keep tabs on how many people had left the west coast, and how many had survived the hybrid invasion. Then the forms were handed out and pens supplied, the paperwork requested to be completed as soon as possible. 

As all her personal identification was lost, Jamie was hard-pressed to provide much proof of her claim to her name and former life, but she figured that was the case in a great many peoples' situations, so she didn't worry about it. She completed the forms and now they just waited to be handed in the next morning. Listening to the women enter the room and prepare for bed, she wondered if she should make an effort to engage with them, make friends. She didn't need to keep up her solitary aloofness, they were all pretty much in the same boat, but still, she held back, not bothering to remove any of her clothing out of a hyper sense of caution, to be ready for anything, as she'd had to be for so long. It was too soon for her to be able to relax completely.

A week of peace, regular meals, and better nights saw the dark circles disappear from under her eyes, her face no longer gaunt and starting to fill out, and a gloss return to her hair. She had been forced to become friendly with the people around her just to stave off the constant boredom that dogged everyone while they waited for word when the next plane was due. Endless card games filled in the hours, supplemented with board games and some outdoor games when weather permitted. Jamie was rostered, as others were, to help out with the more domestic side of the compound, helping with the mountains of laundry, other times working on the food line, and dishing out whatever was available to eat that day. She started to recognize faces and remember names, often invited to join in with others when she wasn't rostered on. She was currently outside, in her favorite corner, watching a game of basketball between one of the military search teams, and some of the refugees, the sun warming her face when she tilted her head. Suddenly one of the machine guns above the gate exploded into action, Jamie slapping her hands over her ears at the noise of the bullets being fired at something beyond the wall. The men on the improvised basketball court froze, then started to run in all directions, some to man the wall, snatching up guns to take up there, others shouting instructions at people to clear the open area and get inside the buildings. Wedged into her corner, Jamie didn't move, scrunched up with her knees against her chest, her hands blocking her ears, watching as something hit the outside of the metal gate, making it bow inwards. The men on the fence walkway were firing straight downwards, but whatever had charged the gate did so again, this time one side tearing and creating a rip in the metal, forming a gap in what had been a solid wall of metal. In quick succession a huge body charged the gap and forced its way in, ignoring the hail of bullets trying to bring it down. The gap was now enormous, the huge horned hybrid charging around the empty space, bellowing and swinging its head to find a target to attack. Guns were firing continuously, deafening her, the creature running around and kicking up dust, as well as charging at vehicles, ripping holes in the metalwork, its boot black eyes glittering. Now more creatures poured through the gap in the fence, huge slavering wolf-like beast, as big as timber wolves, their coats sprinkled with hard, spiny protrusions that rattled like a porcupine as the animals leapt over vehicles, fuel drums, whatever was in their way, getting further and further into and among the buildings. Jamie sat partly hidden behind a bank of the fuel drums up against one of the building, her eyes squeezed shut, her heart hammering in fear. A shadow loomed over her and she looked up, right into the dripping jaws of one of the wolf hybrids, its eyes pinning her in place, its claws hanging over the edge of the drum as long as knives. 

She screamed, her boots scraping on the ground as she tried to press herself harder against the wall, her arms coming up to protect her head even as the beast jumped at her. Its jaw clamped down on her arm, fangs puncturing and scaping on her bones, shock keeping the pain at bay as she battered the creatures' snout with her free hand. The hybrid shook her like a rat, the blood from her arm spraying out and coating the wall, her mouth opened on a permanent scream even as her throat closed in sheer terror. 

In the chaos of the attack, her private battle went unnoticed, the razorback, as she later came to know it, raking her body with its claws, her clothing protecting her from the worst, her right arm still clamped between the unforgiving teeth. She was fighting as hard as she could, but she knew she was losing, her hand numb, her vision starting to turn fuzzy. 

“What the fuck?” The sound of a series of gunshots fired right by her head made her ears ring, the unbearable pressure on her forearm lessening as the jaws holding it slackened in death. Released, Jamie slumped to the dirt, her injured arm without any strength left in it, lying inert and bleeding. Somewhere above her, another battle was taking place, the person who had shot the razorback, now fighting another off himself, his booted feet nearly trampling Jamie, his grunts and the growls of the beast starting to fade as she lost consciousness. Eventually, her brain simply gave up and everything turned black and wonderfully silent.

Doctor Thomas ran out and started firing. The men beside him doing the same, picking off the Razorbacks, the creatures needing more than one bullet to take them down. Bodies were strewn across the compound, some from the gate defense, some from the defense set up to protect the hospital wing. Everywhere you looked, creatures were charging the buildings or vehicles, the gate a wreck from the number of woolly rhino that had barged their way in. He advanced, keeping an eye on the sky for the giant vultures that often accompanied these coordinated attacks, swooping down to carry off anyone they could snag in their huge talons. 

He heard a high pitched scream coming from somewhere to his left, the unmistakable rattle of a razorback chewing on someone hidden behind some metal barrels. He sidled forward and stood up to peer over the drums, seeing a woman trying to fight off the creature while it held her arm in its jaws. Cursing he ducked down, whoever it was, was too slight to do more than piss the animal off as they tried to beat up its muzzle, the animal so absorbed in its prey it never saw him coming, the three bullets he pumped into its skull sufficient to kill it instantly. He had no time to check on the victim before another razorback was on his back, sinking its teeth into his shoulder, claws raking down his sides. He managed to twist and get his gun pointing at its face, firing off several shots until it released him and fell to the ground dead like the other one. Smoke was starting to billow across the open ground, people pouring out of the building behind him, peppering one of the woolly rhino with bullets and bringing it crashing down. Leaning against the wall, he knew that soon the pain from his wounds would cripple him. Looking down he saw that he'd nearly trampled the person he'd tried to save, her body laying at an awkward angle, injured arm bleeding sluggishly. The hair tipped him off as to who it was, his swearing unheard in the melee nearby. Bending down he hauled the girl to her feet, her lolling head evidence she was unconscious of the action around them. His vehicle was parked just around the corner so he pulled her uninjured arm up around his neck and half dragged, half carried her around the fuel drums until they reached his truck. He freed up one hand and pulled open the back door, picking her up unceremoniously and dumping her on the bench seat where she lay like a ragdoll. Pausing to catch his breath, he considered his options. He could wait the battle out or take off back to his hideout. Not the most heroic choice to make, but he decided to retreat to his silo and take the girl with him. The battle could rage on for hours yet and both of them bleed to death from their injuries. 

“Fuck that!” Climbing into the driver's seat, he gunned the motor. The fight between humans and hybrids had moved from the open gates to between the building, leaving him a clear path to escape. Not bothering to avoid running over the dead creatures littering the compound, he drove the truck through the gates and turned a sharp right, abandoning the refugee center and its occupants to their fate. 


	2. The Silo

_ Twenty minutes east of Joseph.  _

The truck bumped over the rutted track on the approach to the abandoned Minuteman missile silo. A sagging chainlink fence appeared up ahead, the gate had long since fallen and was now part of the driveway. The bungalow that was one of only two buildings above ground, looked as if a strong breeze would blow it over, the windows boarded up, the roof caved in at one end with a tree growing out of it. A metal tower peeked out above the roof like an odd-shaped chimney, in reality, a badly disguised air vent, one of two that sucked in and blew out air to ventilate the underground control center placed sixty feet below ground. On closer inspection, wires and cabling could be seen climbing up the sides of several of the tallest trees, antenna in disguise, extending above the treetops for a clear signal. In the rank grass were hidden large pipes indicating the placement of huge tanks dug into the ground that contained freshwater pumped from the nearby Kinney Lake. There was no power poles or generators to see, all the power was carried by cables buried underground, supplied by a small hydro dam fed by the Wallowa Lake, built by Army engineers and designed to supply unlimited electricity to his silo and its sisters spread over a hundred-mile area. As a backup, solar panels coated the undamaged roof of the house and the double garage attached that acted as a fire and petrol station for the operation. All of it looked abandoned and dilapidated, but in fact, it was far from it. 

His shoulder was killing him and the girl on the back seat hadn't stirred, so he thumbed the remote to open the garage door and drove in. Getting out of the truck, he pressed a hidden button and a panel slide open. He initiated the security code then called up the elevator that would carry him sixty feet below ground to the hidden complex and his home. Heaving the body off his back seat, he scowled at the blood discoloring the fabric before pushing the girl to hang over his uninjured shoulder, the air tinged blue with his voluble swearing as he stomped over to the concealed lift now standing with its door open, waiting. The ride was short, accompanied by the usual squeaks, squeals, and shuddering of the lift mechanism until they bumped gently to a stop at the bottom and the doors opened again. 

Still carrying the girl, he walked through the open blast door into the modified control center, now cleared out of most of its redundant equipment and converted into a livable space. Sensors switched on the lights as he moved through the different spaces until he reached what he'd made into his medical bay. Laying the body on the operating table, he approached the squat fridge and rummaged inside for a stronger-than-paracetamol pain killer. After shucking off his coat, he injected himself then clomped down the hall to the bathroom to clean his hands in preparation for operating on the girl. On returning to the medical bay, he stared down at her, getting his first close look at her injuries. He put on some latex gloves and pulled over a triage trolley, picking up a pair of scissors to cut off her torn up clothing. As he did so he chuckled for a moment. 

“Second time I've been the one to get your kit off. Getting to be a bit of a habit.” His moment of levity spent, he removed the thick parka, the two jumpers she wore, and a long-sleeved thermal shirt. The right-hand sleeves of all of them were soggy with blood. With her arm bared, he carefully lifted it to inspect the bite wound. 

“Nearly fucking severed it, you shit!” he swore at the dead creature that had bitten her. Putting the injured limb back down, he went to arrange an armrest to raise her wrist to give him better access. Then he spent a few minutes setting out what he'd need, plus pulling over a stool to sit on and a light on a pole, with its built-in magnifyer to aid the stitching to come. 

His back was aching when he finished stitching the wound, doing what he could to repair the damage, before wrapping the arm and securing it across her chest to keep it immobile. Knowing he still had his own injury to see too, he pushed back his equipment and set to take off the rest of his patient's outerwear - boots, socks, and jeans. With the girl down to her underwear, he wheeled the gurney to a recover bed at the side, curtained off from the rest of the bay, an oxygen feed, and heart monitor set up and waiting to be used. He pulled her onto the softer mattress with all due care then tucked several blankets over her to keep her warm. It always took the heaters a little while to warm the silo up before it was at a comfortable temperature. Pulling up the safety railings on the sides of the bed, he connected the stickers for the heart machine, put an oxygen monitor on her finger, judged her color to be good enough not to need additional oxygen, then left her alone, pulling the curtains back around the bed before wheeling the gurney away and preparing to do his own surgery on himself.

“Oh, God this is getting to be a really bad habit.” Groaning under her breath, Jamie opened her eyes a little, the light beyond the hospital curtains muted, a faint sound making her frown as she tried to figure out what it was. Her memory kicked in regarding why she was in a hospital bed and she tried to lift her injured arm, but it was bound across her chest and heavily wrapped in bandages. “Must be on the good stuff,” she muttered to herself, not feeling any pain from the brief movement, turning her head to look around what she could see of the room. Her mouth tasted of dust and so dry, so a drink was her first priority. Seeing no glass or jug sitting on a bedside table, in fact, no table at all, she looked for some way of contacting one of the nursing staff but saw no call button either. The sound she'd been trying to make out was music, something with a beat that she didn't recognize as recent, at least recent as in the last decade. 

“Hello?” she called out, swallowing to clear the dust in her throat. “Help, please?” She peered up at the ceiling, which was made of curved metal painted an uninspiring grey. Where the hell was she? The curtain surrounding her bed was pulled back in a sudden move and she jerked in surprise. The man who had showered her when she first arrived, then carried her to a bed, was standing with his arms folded over his chest, staring back at her, looking as grim as she'd ever seen him. 

“About bloody time you woke up. Any pain?”

She blinked back at him, taken aback by his abrupt manner. After a moment she opened her mouth to ask for water. His response was to grunt and turn away, leaving her with more questions than answers. He returned pushing a metal trolley that held a plastic jug and beaker, positioning it near the head of the bed and pouring her a drink. He produced a small straw and held it up to her lips.

“Sip, don't gulp,” he ordered his expression still severe.

Jamie concentrated on drawing the blessed water into her mouth and savoring its coolness soothing her throat. 

“Thank you.”

He drew the beaker and straw away and placed it on the trolley, resuming his forbidding stance and staring down at her.

Jamie glanced down at her arm. “How bad is it?”

“Could have been worse. Could have bitten your hand off altogether, instead, you'll keep it but only time will tell how much feeling and movement you'll have to use.”

She gaped at him, his brutal assessment bringing tears to her eyes. 

He stared down at her obvious distress and his brows drew together in an even fiercer scowl. He turned away, muttering expletives to himself and leaving her to deal with everything on her own. 

Getting herself under control, she found she needed help again to address her full bladder. Hearing the doctor banging about somewhere to her left, she called out. 

“Um...help again? Are you there?” She couldn't stop the nerves making her voice shake, wishing there was someone else she could call on. 

“What?” He was suddenly there again at the end of her bed. 

“Um...I need to use a toilet.”

He grunted and turned to leave, returning in short order carrying a metal frame chair with the cushion removed and replaced with a plastic toilet seat and a shallow bowl underneath. A commode. With it next to the bed, he pulled the covers off and helped her sit up and swing her legs over and off the bed. Then he got her standing, pulled her panties down before lowering her onto the commode. Not a word passed between them, Jamie sitting in embarrassed silence, the doctor looking anywhere but at her. After several long minutes, he glanced down at the top of her bent head. 

“Do you need to go or not?”

“Not with you watching me,” she retorted in a loud whisper. 

“For fuck's sake.” He turned and left her, yanking the curtain around to give her limited privacy. With a sigh, Jamie allowed herself to relax, the noise of her passing water making her cringe, but relieved to be emptying her bladder all the same. When she was done, the curtain was pulled back and he helped her to stand, even wiping her down below with a wet wipe which he then discarded into the commode before pulling up her panties and getting her back in bed. Mortified, she lay with her eyes closed while he tucked the blankets back around her, then took the commode's removable bucket away to be emptied, leaving the chair frame behind. She must have dozed for a little while, the next time she opened her eyes he was back at the end of the bed, staring at her and holding a small pile of clothes.

“You need to get up and about, get your circulation moving. You also need to eat and drink to get your blood volume back up. These are clean, probably too big, but they're all I have.” He approached the side of the bed and Jamie couldn't prevent her body flinching when the covers were pulled back. He saw the movement and scowled down at her, before once more helping her to sit up on the side of the bed and dressing her in the track pants, t-shirt and hoody, the right sleeve left dangling. That done he levered her into a standing position with his arm around her back, her good side pressed against his ribs, her uninjured hand clasped in his. Heat radiated off him and he smelled good, despite his wild man appearance, the strength in his hands and arms keeping her upright, her first steps tentative but getting stronger as they moved forward. She was concentrating so hard on just hanging on to him, she didn't take in her surroundings, didn't see the over large pipework and cable conduits, the curved, tunnel-like walls, riveted joints, or utilitarian lighting. 

“Just a few more steps,” his gruff voice encouraged, her legs feeling like jelly. “Sit.” He lowered her into a seat, Jamie puffing from just that short stretch of exercise. Only now did she look up and take in where she was. Doctor Thomas had his back to her, moving about a small galley kitchen that, despite its size, still had all the usual kitchen components you'd expect just compactly positioned rather than spread out. The microwave pinged and he removed a bowl, then fished for a spoon in a metal drawer before carrying it to the table she sat at. 

“Not fancy, but it's a start.” 

Jamie looked down at the contents, noting the swirl of honey swimming on the surface of the porridge. Using her good hand she picked up the spoon and started to eat, her appetite returning with a vengeance.

At length, he brought over a mug containing something hot and a glass of juice, plus a mug for himself, before sitting opposite her and watching her eat. 

“Do you have to watch me?” she asked, glancing up at him. He stared back, his eyes dark behind his glasses. 

“Yes.”

She didn't respond, simply looking down again and working on what remained of the porridge. If he wanted to be surly and abrupt, so be it. 

Without a beanie pulled down almost to his eyebrows, his hair swept down across his forehead, its length past his shoulders which, combined with the full beard, hid almost all of his face. A fresh injury scored deeply along his cheekbone, a fine line of stitches holding it closed. 

“That's a nasty scratch,” she said. “Will it leave a scar?”

The mug banged down on the tabletop. “No worse than all the others.”

Jamie pushed her empty bowl away. “What is your problem? Do you hate everyone, or reserve your bile just for me?”

She glared at him, fear and anger making her eyes glitter. He returned her stare with a fearsome glare of his own, a muscle in his cheek twitching from the tension in his jaw. 

“I don't want you here,” he ground out, his teeth bared.

“Then you shouldn't have dragged me here!” she retorted, not understanding why he was so angry all the time. 

“You would have died,” he growled, pushing himself up and turning his back on her.

“So? You should have left me to die!” she shot back, watching him rinse his mug at the sink. That small task done, he swung around to face her. 

“I couldn't do that.”

She noted that the words were said grudgingly as if forced out of him. 

“You are always so fucking angry. Back at the refugee center you were always scowling and frowning, glaring at everyone, what is your problem?”

His chest heaved and his jaw worked as he fought to rein in his temper. “None of your damn business!”

Jamie was starting to shake, her anger rising in response to his illogical replies to what she considered quite reasonable questions, given the circumstances. “It is my damn business when you can hardly bring yourself to be civil to me.” She rose up out of her chair, her cheeks pink. “To hell with you, how do I get out of this place?” She made to move but she only managed a single step before the room appeared to start spinning around her head, the floor rushing up to meet her. She never felt it hit, the blackness seeping in to snatch her away, didn't feel the arms that held her, and swept her up to carry her towards his sleeping quarters. She never heard his own castigation of himself, never felt his fingers clearing the hair strands covering her face, didn't flinch when he inserted a needle in her arm to introduce much-needed hydration liquid containing essential salts and electrolytes to replace her lost blood volume, didn't see him staring down at her as she slept, the frown gone between his brows as he stood vigil over her. 

He had been angry for so long he'd almost forgotten how to smile. She was certainly a wild cat, flaring up at him despite her desperate condition, fighting her body's weakness to defy him and show him up for the grumpy curmudgeon he'd become. God, she was so frail, barely started on recovery from her privations before Jackson found her, weighing next to nothing, barely more than a child making him feel like a clumsy giant, hulking around and growling like a bear.

Listening to his favorite band, he sipped whiskey and relaxed back in his chair, his thoughts far from the silo he inhabited. Why was he so out of sorts with everything and everybody? Why did he find so little joy in his life any more?

Maybe being dead had something to do with it, being dead and losing everything and everyone he'd ever cared about might have something to do with it as well. Why disguise himself to the extent that even one of his old teammates no longer recognized him, even up close. And if he had such an antithesis for people, why offer to help out at the refugee center? Why bring that slip of a woman back to his fortress of solitude? Just so she could rail at him, draw attention to his permanent black cloud of misery? 

He glowered at the glass in his hand. Was he really so far gone that he was still trying to punish himself for being alive? Was that what this was all about? Survivor's guilt?

He glanced over to the wall, a very small collection of photos in frames set on one shelf, the sum total of the people he'd loved and lost, his ghosts of missed opportunities with no chance now of redemption or forgiveness. 

The music came to an end and he sighed gustily. Whiskey never left him in a better mood, he should know that by now, but he never remembered and drank himself into a deeply morose funk every time.

Bad habits, he assumed, or habits he didn't want to break, rather than habits he could break if he wanted to. God, his shoulder ached, the pain meds wearing off sooner than he expected. He reached up to scratch his beard, the gash down the side of his face pulling at the skin as it healed. It would be hardly noticeable in another twelve hours. The miracle of being part hybrid himself, a side effect that the creature's creator maybe wasn't aware of when he designed the killing machine so thoroughly. On second thoughts, maybe it had been a deliberate addition, to aide the animal to recover quickly from injuries, especially man-made injuries from bullets. It was the same round of questions he'd chewed over every day since his 'death' a decade ago, a decade when his body had undergone a transformation, winding his biological clock back so that despite his chronological age being closer to sixty than fifty, his body, if tested properly would show a man just into his thirties, the fearful injuries suffered in the first attack from the pack that found him in the Shepherds base on Pangaea, should have killed him, without question. Instead, he'd survived, been patched up then held hostage when it was clear he wasn't going to die from his wounds. In those days, his body had been almost crippled by the claws and teeth of the Razorbacks, the blood loss from those gouges alone should have finished him off. Instead, he'd been inexpertly sewn up and carried away, so when his team returned to look for his body, they found nothing but a huge stain of dried blood on the floor. 

He imagined they thought he'd been dragged off and probably eaten, a hearty meal for the hybrids. Of course, he hadn't found out that they'd returned until years later when he was once more a free man. By then he was no longer the Mitch Morgan they remembered, but something else, something he hardly recognized himself. 

When he'd first awakened, days after his team had left him, thinking him dead, he'd held out a faint hope that his friends had managed to get to his daughter in time to give her the serum to protect her from the gas, TX-14 but he was informed they arrived too late and not only was his ex-wife and her husband dead but his beautiful Clementine as well, now buried in a mass grave with no-one to mourn her. In that they were wrong for he mourned her deeply, blaming himself in some twisted way, if only he'd figured it out sooner, created the serum she needed sooner, hadn't died on her before securing some sort of future for her. It was always his fault, all of it, a never-ending cycle of recriminations and regrets, guilt and self-hatred, of loneliness and love lost, all their efforts to save the world only to have it turn out that the gas instead sterilized the human race, dooming it to oblivion, the last child born likely to die in roughly sixty years and then the human race was done, over, extinct.

Wasn't that the joke? After all the extinctions that man was responsible for in the last six million years from his first appearance on the planet, he was now to become extinct by his own hand in less than a hundred years' time.

Was it any wonder he shunned people?

At some point in his musings, he fell asleep in the chair, long legs stretched out, head cradled on the cushioned back of the armchair, the glass dropping from his slack fingers to the rug below. 

He awoke after several hours, his bladder needing a bathroom break. While washing his hands he peered at his reflection in the mirror, noting the lack of grey strands in his beard or on his head. His image mocked him, what was the point of having a second chance at life when you did nothing with it?

Cursing himself, he left the bathroom to check on his patient, finding her sleeping comfortably, the saline bag empty on the pole. At some time the needle had been pulled out or pushed out of her arm, more likely her own body simply rejected it as it started to change, to metamorphose. The intent of the hybrid had quite possibly been to kill the woman, nearly severing her hand with its teeth, but instead it was now having an effect that he'd have to explain to her at some stage. He stared down at her, noting that she probably looked older, her face drawn, most of its underlying padding lost through starvation, but if he had to guess, he'd put her at around fortyish, give or take. Her hair must have been glorious in her younger day, unlike now when it was dull and matted, clean but not particularly healthy-looking, a bit like the woman herself. He left her to sleep, her color looking more normal now her blood loss had been addressed. 

Wheeling the pole back into the medical bay, he left it there to get himself something to drink in the kitchen. Her discarded dishes and the unfinished meal had been left behind on the table so he gathered them up and took them to the sink. Half an hour later and he was sitting with a mug of hot coffee in front of his very large, military-grade communication center. He smirked at the name because who the fuck did he communicate with? It was more of a surveillance center where he could look out onto the world, peer into people's lives and listen to their conversations, but not take any part in them himself. He watched and listened, but never spoke. 

Today he was interested in any communication between Jackson and Abe. If the lion tamer had survived the attack, he'd be telling Abe all about it. The bank of computer screens in front of him displayed different information, some of it to do with the silo itself, others showing broadcast channels, their sound muted or, as one did now, recordings of satellite phone calls and other digital media recorded in the last twenty-four hours.

Checking the list he clicked one displaying a familiar number, not pressing the play button until he had on a pair of headphones. Then he pressed play and sat back to listen. 

“Abe?”

“Hey Dylan, how's it going?”

“It's gone to shit, Abe. The refugee center is destroyed.”

“Fuck. What happened?”

“The hybrids organized a concerted attack on the compound. We have a lot of casualties. I've been ordered to bug out.”

“They're sending the plane early?”

“Yeah. Tess and I could be knocking on your door within the week.”

“Ah, man, I'm sorry it ended that way. This was going to be the last flight anyway, wasn't it?”

“Yeah, and I think that somehow the hybrids knew that. Don't ask me how, but why attack now when we're so close to leaving?”

“You think someone might be directing them?”

“No idea. But if I can influence my pride, how hard would it be to do the same with the hybrids?”

“Even so, how many animals were involved, how many species?”

“Sorry, bud. Didn't do a headcount, I was a little busy staying alive!”

“Of course. So you and Tess are done with the whole evacuation program?”

“Yeah. I've put in enough time over here. Time to do something new.”

“What about the pride?”

“I've tried to explain what's happening with us, and they are more than capable of fending off the hybrids as a pack...”

“But they're not exactly in their own habitat, are they?”

“No. I'll probably leave them with instructions to head south, get to somewhere warmer and less heavily populated with hybrids, if there is such a place!”

“Hey, Rafiki, I heard a rumor...”

“What about this time?”

“That there is a plan underway to initiate a final solution to the hybrid problem.”

“That sounds ominous. What do they have in mind?”

“With you and your people bugging out, there's only the hybrids left...”

“And all the other animals native to the area!”

“Yeah, those too. But no people, no purpose for the west coast other than to be an out of control experiment, a perpetual threat to everyone beyond the barrier.”

“You're scaring me, Abe. What are they going to do?”

“They're talking about using nukes.”

“What the fuck? Are they insane?”

“Probably.”

“They do remember that one of the biggest volcanic peaks is on our side of the barrier, that there's a fucking great big fault line running up the coast and through most of these mountains?”

“Preaching to the choir...Dylan. Preaching...”

“Shit. Maybe it's time someone reminds them before they go dropping bombs and fucking up everything with long term consequences for the rest of the world. I know we're all doomed, but does it have to be right now?”

“Look, nothing will be happening right away. Just get yours and Tessa's lovely butt over here, it's been too long.”

“Yeah. Too long, my friend. Give Dariela a kiss for me. I'll call you when I get over the other side.”

“Goodbye, Rafiki.”

Mitch stared at the screen, chewing over everything he'd heard. It seemed he wasn't going to be able to live out his poxy life in his silo if they were going to drop fucking great big bombs on him. Of course, the silo was built with that eventuality in mind, but fuck that!

He saved the data packet and listened to a couple of other recordings, then moved onto his internet screen, tapping away on the keyboard to bring up some black net websites to read the chatter. If there was going to be a bombing campaign on the west coast, the guys in the underground would hear about it first. Despite the government's best effort and strongest security, there were always leaks.

He persisted for over an hour to find any evidence of what Abe had mentioned, getting nothing for his trouble which both reassured him and scared the shit out of him. He would need to know where Abe got his intel.

He balanced the tray with one hand, using the other to open the door and enter his bedroom. His patient was awake. 

“Time you woke up,” he grunted, reverting to his fall back persona of a bitter old man. “You need to eat.”

The woman in the bed, what was her name? Oh, yeah, Jamie, was looking at him warily. 

“Why am I here?” she asked, pointedly looking around the room. “This is your room.”

“No shit, Sherlock. Yes, it is my room, but that doesn't mean anything. Have you looked in the mirror lately?” He was being deliberately mean to remove any idea that she might be harboring, that he had designs on her person. He saw her cheeks flush at his comments. Not meeting her eyes he set the tray down over her legs as she scooted back to put some distance between them. Not commenting he stood up and folded his arms over his chest, looking as forbidding as possible. 

“Can you walk? Or do you want me to bring in the commode?”

At the memory of that humiliation, she shook her head. “No. Thank you. I've already used your bathroom.” She negligently pointed at the hatchway leading to the tiny ensuite. 

“Good. Saves me the trouble,” he groused. “And don't get up unless you can walk unaided, I don't want to trip over your body any more than necessary.” He affected an air of complete disinterest, ignoring glares fired in his direction, his attitude entirely impersonal. “I'll leave you to it, I have stuff to do.” Not waiting for an answer, he turned and left, letting out a huff of breath once outside. Better he keep an emotional distance from her as much as possible, to get involved would be a disaster. 

Jamie devoured the contents on the tray, then set it aside. She had been beyond surprised to find herself in his personal bedroom, in his actual bed, myriads of thoughts chasing around her brain, suspecting him of any number of sordid scenes. Those had been largely blown away by the fact there was no change in his attitude to her, still surly and frowning, his manner brusque to the point of rude. She decided to look at her injured wrist, unbinding the arm from close to her chest then slowly unwinding the long length of bandaging that encased her right arm from elbow to fingers. There was no pain, which surprised her, but she still refrained from trying to bend or move her wrist until she saw the damage. With the bandage gone, she peeled off the dressing revealing her formerly bitten through arm sewn back together with neat stitches, the skin surface still orange from the antiseptic, the tiny black lines reaching almost completely around her arm like a bracelet. She supported her wounded arm with the other, then tried to slowly and carefully flex her fingers. She was concentrating so hard on that task she didn't notice him standing in the doorway, intently watching right along with her. When she had gone through testing each digit he let out a breath of relief, intending to back out and leave her to it, but at that moment she looked up.

“I thought you said my hand had been severed?”

“Nearly severed. It didn't break the bone, just chewed the flesh,” he told her, looking bored. 

Jamie held up her arm. “It doesn't hurt, not a twinge, that can't be normal, can it?”

Mitch looked down at his feet. “Probably messed with the nerve endings, they'll grow back.”

“Wouldn't you expect it to be weeping or something? It looks like it's already knitting back together!”

He let out a grunt. “Look. I can cut it off if you don't like it. There's just no pleasing some people...” he groused.

“That's just what Jesus said,” Jamie whispered, remembering an old Monty Python movie line. 

“What?”

“Nothing. So you have no problem with the way this looks?” she persisted, lifting her arm and turning it this way then that. 

“Are. You. In. Pain?” he retorted angrily, enunciating every word. 

“No.”

“That's good enough for me.” His job done, he pivoted on his heel and stomped off leaving his patient to marvel at her arm in wonder. 

Not entirely trusting that her arm was truly healed, she rewrapped the bandaging around it but didn't secure it to her chest, leaving it free, buried inside the over large sleeve of the hoody. Having no desire to sleep anymore, she got out of bed and wandered around the room, looking at everything as if to divine something useful about the angry man, Doctor Thomas. There was little enough to see, just some personal items - a picture of a pretty, blond-haired child, a small box holding a wedding ring sitting on top of a curl of hair, probably belonging to the child. Some grooming items, a long-handled brush, and a no-handle round brush along with a pair of nail scissors and a comb. All looking as if they'd been used on a regular basis, no dust silhouette when she moved them. It would seem the hairy wild man look was an affectation, probably to keep people at arms length, but not left to get matted or dirty or uncared for. So, despite appearances, he still cared, he just didn't like to look attractive, burying his features behind a wall of hair. It made it difficult to judge his age, but she saw no grey hairs in the bristles or seen any grey creeping into his beard, so he could be anywhere from twenty-five to fifty behind his disguise. She paused in her musing. A disguise? Was he overly hirsute to conceal his identity? Was that why he lived alone? Why he maintained his pissed-off attitude to keep everyone at bay?

It would explain a lot, but also it could place her in jeopardy if he turned out to be some crazy delusional mental case. 

He didn't shy away from comfort, the bed proof of that, the sheets and blankets appearing to be clean, the pillows only faintly smelling of him over the perfume of whatever laundry powder he used.

Everywhere she looked was neat and tidy, clean and comfortable, the few personal touches just what you'd expect from a sane, ordinary man who liked an orderly life without extravagant flourishes. On his own – alone. 

The small drawer unit only contained clothes, the cupboard the same. Satisfied she'd learned all she could from his bedroom, she ventured out to explore further. Long carpet runners stopped her bare feet feeling the cold metal floor, the circular tunnel that formed the corridor having several hatchways along it, but none of them would open for her. Not far from his room she entered the kitchen after passing the medical bay, where she'd been not so long before. That, like the rest of the place, was neatly and sparingly arranged, nothing left hanging up on the floor, or scattered on the surfaces. Likewise the kitchen, a room-sized rug keeping her feet warm, the smallish table and four chairs appearing too small for the size of the room, but then, what more would a man on his own need?

The storage cupboards were set a little too high and she needed to stretch to reach the handles to open them, obviously built to the scale of the men who inhabited it, manning the silo in expectation of an order to fire. She briefly wondered if the missile was still in its tube, ready to be fired. 

“They decommissioned this decades ago, there's no missile anymore.” The deep voice, coming from behind her, made her jump in surprise. Not only because he had come upon her without her hearing or noticing, but also because it was as if he'd read her mind and answered her unspoken questions.

“So this is a missile silo?”

“I thought I told you that already.”

Jamie shook her head. “I just suspected. It was that or a submarine.” 

When he didn't speak, she tried again. “Did you do all this?”

“Nope. Came this way. Most of these installations are little more than concrete rubble filled with dirt and water. This one had been bought and converted by a doomsday prepper. I didn't need to do much more than just move in and take over.”

“What happened to the owner?”

He shrugged. “Who knows, he wasn't here when I found it and hasn't come back since I moved in.”

“When was that?”

He walked past her to switch on the kettle. “Five years, give or take.”

Jamie gaped at him. “Five years? All alone?”

“I like being alone. Nice and quiet. Tea or coffee?”

“Coffee, please,” she answered, watching him. It was all so normal, yet also so bizarre. He picked up the filled mugs and carried them to the table, Jamie following and taking the chair opposite. For a moment neither of them spoke, Jamie to collect her thoughts and compile a list of questions, Mitch to prepare his answer to what could be a long list of queries. He decided to go first. 

“You are....or were an investigative reporter, but you haven't published any articles in over two years.”

Jamie felt her mouth fall open in surprise. “How did you...?”

He lifting a shoulder to shrug, wincing when his recent injury reminded him of its presence. “You gave your real name at the refugee center. I looked you up.”

She glanced around the room. “How far down are we?”

“About sixty feet.”

“So how are you able to find out anything about anybody when you're sixty feet underground?”

His mouth quirked briefly at the corner. He pointed a finger to indicate the ceiling. “Military command center, remember?”

“Didn't you say that had all been taken out?”

“Some of it had been, not all. I just had to update the specs of what had been left behind and install any extras I deemed necessary.”

“Like?” Jamie pushed. 

“Satellite uplink, internet server and connection, the usual stuff you need to spy on the world and the people in it.”

“And do you? Spy on the world?”

“It's a hobby.”

Jamie sipped her drink, swirling the flavor around her mouth, pondering what to ask next. 

“Who are you? And why are you hiding behind all...” she indicated his face. “All that? Or did you just not give a fuck?”

His brows drew together in a ferocious scowl and she thought she might have gone too far. 

“It serves a purpose.”

“To hide your identity? Or scare people away?”

“Pushy bitch, aren't you?”

She pointed to herself. “Investigative journalist!” she smirked.

Again the corner of his mouth quirked up for a second. 

“I'm nobody. And it worked, very well.”

“Will you be going back to the refugee center?” she asked.

He shook his head. “It's being closed down and the people, all of them evacuated any day now.”

Her mug thumped down on the tabletop. “I need to get back there, you have to take me.”

He shook his head again. “Sorry. No deal.”

Jamie gaped at him. “What the fuck? You have to take me back!”

He let out a short bark of derision. “I don't have to do anything, and anyway, it's not safe.”

“Fuck you! I don't want to stay stuck down here, you have to take me back!”

“No. I don't and I won't.”

He got up and carried his mug to the sink, his back to her. Jamie stared down at her mug then picked it up and threw it, contents as well, at his back. The smash of the mug hitting the wall seemed to echo around the small space, the cold coffee dripping down the wall next to his head. When he turned around she was gone.

She had thrown the mug instinctively with her right arm, forgetting about her injury, the wrist now throbbing in response to being used too soon. She jogged past the rooms she knew, through a thick blast door into areas she was unfamiliar with. If they were sixty feet below the surface, there had to be an elevator to get back up there. Rooms and spaces flashed past her, her attention fixed on finding an exit. Scanning the walls she saw a half-torn off sign with half of the word 'exit' and an arrow indicating a passage to her left. Darting down it, not even surprised that only a day ago she'd been barely able to walk, and was now nearly running, she saw up ahead an opening with a concertinaed metal gate, like a goods lift.

The lift was spacious, possibly used to carry large items up and down, the gate unfolding behind her and, once closed, causing the lift to start moving upwards. It jerked and wobbled, an unnerving experience, but it continued upwards at a steady pace until it shuddered to a halt. When she pulled open the gate and pushed it back, the metal door on the other side automatically opened, letting her enter what appeared to be a double garage, Doc Thomas's truck sitting comfortably in the large space. Behind her, the lift door closed and she looked for a way out of the building. A door set in the main roller door beckoned and she ran over to it, tugging on the handle. She was so intent on getting the handle to turn, she didn't hear the creature on the other side of the door. Jamie tugged, making the metal rattle and vibrate, the creature on the other side raising its spiny hackles, smelling the prey on the other side.

Jamie was screaming in frustration, banging her fist on the door, lifting her bare foot to kick the metal but not dislodging the door lock. On the other side, the hybrid pushed forward, reaching out a paw to test the strength of the barrier, its claws scraping the surface, leaving behind score marks in the paint, and making a horrible screeching sound. Jamie didn't hear it, banging both her fists on the door plate, venting her anger and fear against the unyielding door. The hybrid on the outside suddenly howled and she froze, fists upraised, her breathing labored. At the same moment an arm snaked around her middle and pulled her away, a spare hand covering her mouth while he carried her back to the elevator. He dropped his hand to pull the metal gate closed and get the lift moving downwards to safety. Jamie strained and struggled against the arm still holding her against his hard body, her breath leaving her mouth in ragged sobs.

“Let go of me!” she suddenly screamed, the arm instantly leaving her middle, Jamie hitting the wall of the lift where she leaned, defeated. At the bottom, the gate opened and she stumbled out, lurching down the slight ramp until she reached the access tunnel where she paused. 

“You need to see something,” he growled, grabbing her up in his arms to carry her to the communication center, all the screen currently displaying the immediate environment around the building above their heads. He set her down on her feet with little finesse then sat himself in the control chair, toggling the outside cameras showing every angle. The dilapidated looking garage was currently surrounded by a pack of the wolf hybrids, some of them standing up on their back legs to inspect the mesh-covered windows down the side, others also on their back legs, using their front paws to push on the roller door, making it flex back and forth. A couple of truly enormous pack members crouched down then leapt up to reach the roof, inspecting it for any access into the building, Mitch switching the camera view to show them sniffing at everything, using their paws to scrape at the roof, looking for any weakness to use to their advantage. 

Jamie stood beside his chair, one hand on the back to steady herself. Surrounding her were images of the hybrids trying to find a way into the garage, and ultimately a way to get to her and the man sitting beside her. Secondly, she was surrounded by a huge amount of military-grade technology that her companion seemed to be able to manipulate with ease. Sure, she knew how to use a basic computer or laptop, but what she was looking at was something out of her experience, more like a command center for a space shuttle launch.

“You can't leave.” His voice grated on her ears, drawing her focus back to the images in front of her. “Neither of us can. They moved in after we arrived back, and they seem to have taken up residence, even using part of the demolished end of the house for a den.”

Jamie closed her eyes, her nails digging into the cushioning of the chair, her escape attempt less than useless, her life now dependant on the whim of an angry man.

“Fine. You win.” She drew in a shuddering breath, filling her lungs before letting it out slowly. “I'm not sleeping in your bed. Find me somewhere else to stay.” She turned away and he shut off the security camera feed, the screens going blank. Jamie leaned against the door frame and waited for him to move past her, leading her down the corridor, taking one off to the side, and then opening a door. 

“All yours.”

He stood back and let her enter the dormitory, bunk beds in a row of three lining each wall, giving her twelve beds to choose from, the mattresses bare, the light too bright. Jamie entered and approached the nearest bottom bunk, sitting down then staring sightlessly at the grey walls without saying a word. Mitch left, only to return within minutes with a stack of bedding which he dumped on the end of the bed she was sitting on. 

“Time means nothing down here. You get used to it after a while. Sleep when you're tired, eat when you're hungry, forget about day or night, here that's just an abstract concept.” He watched her stare off into nothing for a few seconds then left her, leaving the door to the room open. 

A few minutes later Jamie got up and closed the door.


	3. Underground

**_ day fourteen _ **

They communicated, what little they had to say, via notes on the kitchen table. The first day, after her escape attempt, she slept or explored her room. It was not fancy or had much to show off, but she had it to herself, including the small bathroom attached. Every time she opened the door to the outside corridor, she found little heaps of things for her to use – towels, shampoo, soap, toothpaste, basic utensils like a brush, hairdryer, comb and scissors, more clothes, some slippers for her feet – all things she was able to make use of, some of them even in their original packaging indicating that he hadn't used them before her. He even left her a laundry basket to use with a note saying to leave it out when it was full. She did, and it came back several hours later full of the laundered items, all without her setting eyes on him, not once. She had searched the walls of the two rooms she counted as her own, not finding any hint of a camera or microphone, but even without them, he seemed to know when she was up and about, their paths never crossing. She had requested a pen and paper, receiving them in short order. She started to make a mark every time she awoke to start her day, keeping a tally to pass the time. The paper – a ruled exercise book, in fact – she used to record how she filled her time, noting down her mood and how her arm was looking. By the end of the first week she was hard-pressed to see where on her arm she'd been injured, a faint silvery line her only clue. Along with the exercise book, she received a simplified map of the general layout of their living space. What she'd seen so far was only a fraction of what was underground, a whole unoccupied pod joined by a connecting tunnel to the one they were in, giving her a reasonable running track to use for exercise when the mood took her. The lift, when she went to check it out, was now padlocked giving her no way to return to the surface. The map neglected to show the emergency escape route and she never thought to ask if there was one. 

Irritated by her hair, she ended up cutting most of it off, giving herself a rough bob cut that curled under, the snarls and tangles no more than a memory. In the early days, there was a lot to explore, including a huge room that was primarily for storing their food supply. The space was almost as big as a supermarket with metal racks in orderly lines filled with everything you'd expect to find in one. There were also three refrigerated freight containers, their contents made up of frozen meats and fish, perishables like dried fruit, frozen vegetables, and fruit, the last full of frozen dairy and similar products including butter, both cow and nut milk, and all sorts of frozen desserts including ice cream. Whoever had gone to all the trouble of stocking the silo had spent a fortune on the food store, but also expected to spend a great deal of time underground. If they never ventured out there were still enough resources to keep them alive for years. Even if the refrigerators failed, there were enough tinned, boxed, and dried goods to last a very long time. With unlimited access to any foodstuff her appetite desired, Jamie started to regain some of her lost weight, her body filling out and coming back to its usual slender yet well-covered state. The map had indicated that at the end of the connecting tunnel was a gym she could use so she decided to explore.

The walls of the long tunnel were created in segments, obviously welded together, but in between each seam was a huge poster, the images they depicted almost three dimensional, like huge windows looking out onto a different natural scene from evergreen forests to beach vistas, mountains, and waterfalls. One even depicted an underwater scene that, combined with the curve of the tunnel made the viewer feel like they were indeed inside a submarine, with a little application of imagination. 

In the gym she found it stocked with every possible piece of exercise equipment imaginable, from simple yoga maps with a huge poster showing the different positions, to a weight training apparatus set up and an indoor climbing wall. The walls were covered in differing charts and instruction posters, explanations of what and what not to do on the different pieces of equipment, and also slogans posters with inspirational sayings to encourage and support the user. An extensive CD library was available and could either fill the space with music or be listened to via headphones and earbuds. 

Another room that piqued her interest was an adjoining suite designed and set up for showing movies and box sets of television shows, the overhead projector giving the viewer a cinema experience. There were two tiers of seating to further enhance the illusion of a private theater, plus a popcorn machine to produce snacks.

In other areas were large monoliths of machinery with huge pipes and snaking hoses connected or running over the floor and walls. Some were to do with ventilation, others to deal with sewage or freshwater intake, all of them mysteries of engineering with complicated banks of monitoring dials giving information that she little understood. 

Another room in the gym wing, as she called it, was a reading room, easily as big as her bunk room, the walls packed floor to ceiling with books, both paperback and hardcovers, fiction and fact on any subject you care to name, from herbology to outer space and every topic in-between. There was also a large collection in one corner of puzzle books, board games, and jigsaws if one was really pushed for entertainment over and above everything else on offer. The fiction section offered a wide range of options from romance to science fiction, thrillers to war stories. There was a space to read in the room itself, or baskets supplied to carry off a selection to read elsewhere. With each new discovery, the prospect of spending an extended time below the surface was not looking so horrendously bad as it had a week ago. 

The only item missing from the well thought out arrangement was the addition of living things. There were no animals or plants, not even edible ones. The lack of animals she could understand, but to not see a living plant, even just greenery other than in the posters along the tunnel was a hard fact to accept. She also found she missed the sound of the birds. All the underground quarters could offer was a regular rumble of the distant machinery going about its business or the occasional hiss of air passing through a vent before being recycled or refreshed from the outside. The air wasn't stale, but it wasn't entirely fresh air either. 

After learning to find her way around, she settled into a routine of sleeping, eating, exercising, showering, reading, watching then sleeping again. All done without seeing the angry man at all. The only room she avoided was the communications center, where he probably spent most of his time. She didn't need to know what was happening in the world outside, it held no attraction for her, everyone she'd ever cared about was gone, and given the world as it was now, she was unlikely to find anyone who'd want to take her on. That thought depressed her as she was not usually a reclusive person, but life lately had been extreme bordering on deadly, and it would take a lot for her to give up what she had now for something unknown.

Yet, knowing someone was sharing the underground with her, but managing to avoid her entirely irked her. 

By the time day fourteen or whatever day it actually was rolled around she was starting to feel cross with the constant avoidance, her need for some sort of company, even his was making her twitch with tension, so she started leaving him messages, requesting that he join her in the gym, or meet her for a movie, even a meal if that was too much to ask. She had questions – about what he did all day, any news that he could pass on, even if the hybrids were still camped on their doorstep. Something, anything so she heard a living human voice other than those pre-recorded on DVDs and CDs. 

She was in the kitchen fixing herself a snack when a stranger walked into the room. She screamed. The man stopped and stared at her, his lips quirking up at the corners in a familiar expression on an unknown face. 

Jamie stared, her back pressed against the bench.“Who the fuck are you?”

“Nice hairdo,” he remarked after a drawn-out moment, still not moving, just watching her warily. 

Jamie relaxed her grip on the kitchen bench. The voice was the same, still raspy and gruff, but it no longer matched the face.

Bemused to finally find out who was hiding under all the hair, she took a step forward, her hand reaching out, unbidden, to see if he was real. Her fingertips touched his jaw, all evidence of the heavy beard gone, his skin soft and only faintly hinting at any regrowth. She touched the cleft now evident in his chin, then withdrew her hand completely. His eyes behind the glasses were dark but not black, more of a sherry color, warm and soothing, fringed with dark lashes. His hair had been completely transformed, shortened, and swept back from his brow, with a left hand parting and barely brushing his collar, squared-off sideburns highlighting his jawline. Even his eyebrows, usually knotted and unruly were groomed to show their natural arch, lending his face character.

“Who are you and what did you do with the other guy?” She stepped back, taking in the new look and approving. “Who knew a normal man lurked under all that hair?”

“Ouch.” Mitch pretended to take a hit, wincing at her backward compliment. He lifted his hand and flicked a finger at her own new look. 

“This looks...nice.”

Jamie took another step back. “Now don't start being pleasant as well, let me process one shock at a time.”

Mitch dipped his head, hiding the smile that brought out the dimples in his cheeks. When he'd conquered the grin threatening to break out, he looked up. Jamie had her back to him again and he turned away, taking a seat at the table. With her plate and snack, she soon joined him, her eyes still tending to roam over his face, making him feel there was something strange about him, when in fact he looked more like his usual self now, more than he'd ever done in years. 

“I didn't see any point in maintaining the whole wild man look so decided to revisit an old look,” he explained. “Your reaction was worth every hour it took to achieve this.”

Jamie glanced up, one eyebrow raised. “I'm supposed to think you did this for me?”

He held a hand over his heart. “You mean you didn't do this...” he indicated her short bob. “Wasn't done for me? I'm gutted.”

Jamie stared at him, amazed at not only his physical transformation but his change in attitude. “Are you teasing me?” she asked, unable to keep the note of amazement out of her voice. 

Mitch shrugged. “Seemed appropriate to go the whole hog, and you were right, you weren't to blame for my past, so why take it out on you?” He held out his hand. “Truce?”

Jamie eyed his hand, the nails manicured and clean. “Are you going to let me out of here?”

“Nope.”

They sat there, Mitch holding out his hand, Jamie still deciding if she was really prepared to lower her defenses. In the end, curiosity won and she reached out to shake his hand. His palm was warm and dry, his grip firm but not hard. He let her go and she immediately missed the physical contact. She went back to consuming her meal, both of them glancing at the other, noting the changes. His cheek which before had sported a nasty gash was now smooth and unmarked. Her arm, which had worn its bracelet of stitches was now just as smooth, only a thread of a scar remaining to mark the wound site. 

“How is the dorm working out for you?” he asked, no combative edge to his voice. It washed over her like honey on toast. 

“I have plenty of room and I feel safe there,” she said, stating it as a fact.

“Good. Have you been exploring?” 

“Yes, that was why you gave me the map. I like the pictures on the wall of the tunnel, they're like windows. They help.”

“Help?” he asked, pushing his mug to the side. 

“I've always had a mild form of claustrophobia, the images in the tunnel are so big and realistic I can forget I'm sixty feet underground if I stare at them long enough.”

They slipped into a comfortable silence, Mitch giving her a moment to relax before hitting her with his next surprise. He clasped his hands on the tabletop and leaned forward. 

“There's something you need to know,” he started. Jamie looked up, noting the intent look in his eyes. He spoke again.

“Now I've shed my Doc Thomas persona, you deserve to know my real name.” He paused again, looking down at the tabletop for a moment. Jamie watched him, wondering why he was drawing it out. 

“Jamie Campbell, meet Mitch Morgan, veterinary pathologist, university professor, and part-time doctor.” He waited, seeing a series of expressions cross her face. 

“Mitch Morgan? I know that name...” She stared back at him. “Why do I know that name? Were you famous or something?”

“Or something,” he shot back. “Actually, according to the world at large, I died ten years ago.”

“Died?”

“Presumed dead.” He waited a beat then carried on. “You did a phone interview with me twelve years ago.”

Jamie started in surprise. “I did? What was it about?”

“Two lions had escaped the LA Zoo and you were following up on the men they killed before being shot by the police. You wanted to know if I could account for the behavior as they had also killed their keeper, who they knew from birth.”

Jamie's expressive eyes widened further, her memory kicking in. “That was...God, about six months before the world went to hell!”

“Yeah. I was part of the team put together to find a cure for the animals. We did eventually, but not before a lot of people died.”

“I remember the news reports, they were talking about some initiative to kill all the animals and then you released some birds and they spread the cure instead.”

“That's right, they did.” He stared down at his hands. “But by the time that happened I was presumed dead.”

“What happened?”

“I was attacked by a hybrid on an island off the coast of South America. My team had to get off the island in a hurry, I stayed back to make sure they could. I was attacked, cut up pretty badly, but then I was rescued and fixed up.”

“If that's the case, why does everyone still think you're dead?”

He shrugged. “Seemed easier than resurrecting the past. My team had moved on, everyone I left behind was dead, and the whole hybrid situation was getting out of hand. If Mitch Morgan returned from the dead, he'd be expected to pull another rabbit out of his ass and save the world - again, like he did with the animals.”

“Did you try?”

“No.”

Jamie stared at him, remembering the images of the team, so much younger and eager, their photos in every newspaper. “The man with the tame lions, Dylan, wasn't he one of your team?”

“Clever girl. Yes, that was Jackson Oz. He had to change his name when a group of people decided that someone had to be the scapegoat for the mess the animal uprising had caused, and the release of the TX14 gas, which unfortunately his father, Robert Oz was actually responsible for.”

“What happened to him – to Robert Oz?” 

“He died, saving his son.”

“Saving Jackson?”

“Yeah. Hell of a thing to find out your father switched the formula and sterilized the human race afterward. Anyway, without Robert to face his crimes, they chose to use Jackson instead, so he had to go into hiding. What better place than to be in the one place nobody else wanted to go?”

“What if someone was to let slip who he really is?”

“They wouldn't be believed. All images have been wiped and replaced with somebody else. Given the chaos beyond the barrier, without proof, it's a hiding to nothing.” Mitch sat back in his chair. “And anyway, once he escapes from here, he can vanish by being just another refugee and you'd never find him.”

Jamie was frowning, some of his story not entirely adding up. 

“Just one question, Doctor Morgan...”

“Mitch, please.”

“Okay. When I interviewed you back in, it would have been the summer of two thousand and fifteen?” she waited for him to nod before carrying on. “You were in your forties even then, am I right?” He nodded again. “So you should be in your fifties plus by now.”

Mitch met her stare for stare, one dark eyebrow rising in response. “Sounds about right.”

“But...but looking at you now, you look barely into your thirties, closer to forty is I was being really mean. Explain that?”

Mitch allowed himself to smile. “Another excuse for my disguise. It's hard to explain away why one appears to have regressed from an old man to a young one, without a cogent reason for the transformation.”

“Is it...I mean, is it only on the outside, or...everything?”

“Everything. When I was attacked ten years ago, I was torn to pieces, with deep gashes and cuts over most of my torso, arms, and legs. I should have bled out on the floor there and then, but I didn't. I later learned that during a phase of creating the wolf hybrid they added a wrinkle to the formula that ended up not only saving my life but adding years to it as well.” 

“Can that happen to anyone?” Jamie asked, enthralled with his story. 

“I don't know. I only know it happened to me with spectacular results. We'll have to wait and see if it can affect somebody else.” He glanced down at her right hand resting on the tabletop. Jamie looked down as well, the silver scar around her arm jumping out at her. 

“You mean...?”

He nodded. “Welcome to the laboratory that is my life.”

The talkfest had broken up shortly after that, Jamie retiring to her room to think over what she'd learned. It all sounded like some science fiction bestseller, but for the fact she'd read the articles and seen the photos when she lived in New York all those years ago. Since then every life on the planet had been turned upside down and changed out of all recognition, no one where they expected themselves to be. From being taciturn in the extreme Doc Thomas...no, Mitch, had become a chatty- cathy, sharing his history with her as if they were best friends. Admittedly he was a very attractive package with his over-long hair and beard gone, his features nothing special if viewed individually, but put together they formed a good-looking, interesting face that was very appealing when he smiled. On a sobering note, he appeared younger than she did, despite being a much old man going by his birth date. When he spoke, she wanted to listen, reporting his past without looking for sympathy, just telling the facts without emotion but still engaging his audience. Probably a skill he learned being a lecturer. 

Laying on her bed she pondered the implications of being bitten by a hybrid and not dying. Did she feel different? It was hard to tell. She couldn't see any changes in the mirror, but then she'd never been vain, doing no more than glance at her reflection to make sure her hair was tidy before rushing off to her next assignment, barely dashing on a smear of lipstick as a token nod to makeup. Blessed with clear skin, a milky complexion, and dark lashes, she didn't need to pile on the powder, her only blemishes being a sprinkle of freckles if she stayed in the sun too long. All of that had been discarded when the animals decided they'd had enough of humans ruling their lives. Then it was their time to hunt and kill, the humans routed from one city after the other, no one safe or immune. The roles had been reversed, the only good human to an animal being a dead one. 

Now she was living in a missile silo with the man responsible for curing the animals and putting the world to right, albeit for only a short time before the hybrid's appearance, the building of the barrier, and abandonment of the west coast in its entirety. She had been dumb enough to volunteer to resuscitate her flagging journalistic career by flying to the west coast to report on the evacuation, then the refugee crisis, and the initiative to find them all. It had been a failure from the start, let down by her editor, running out of money landing her in trouble until she became what she'd gone there to report on – a refugee herself. 

Thinking about her failures only depressed her so she stopped thinking and let sleep take her under. 

**_ day thirty-one _ **

Jamie entered the gym to find Mitch had beat her to it. He was running on the treadmill, his t-shirt hanging over the front bar leaving him bare-chested. 

“Hey,” he said, not breaking his stride. Jamie nodded and made her way over to one of the static bicycles that stood behind and to the side. Dropping her towel on the floor, she seated herself and fitted her sneakered feet onto the pedals. Setting her level of resistance, she started to pedal, getting into a good rhythm before increasing her speed. She tried her hardest to ignore the figure running smoothly up ahead, but she couldn't seem to stop her eyes fixing on the bare torso in front of her, the muscles of his back and shoulders playing and flexing under the skin, arms moving back and forth, muscles bulging at his biceps and shoulders, tendons and sinews flexing in his legs, a faint sheen of sweat reflecting the lights overhead. In the weeks since Mitch had revealed his true identity, they had bumped into each other on a regular basis, sometimes for a meal, other times like now, at the gym. Jamie was feeling more healthy than she had in a very long time, her slender frame now at a good weight and toned with the regular exercise. She had adapted some clothes to use for just this purpose, finding a pair of trainers that fit well enough with the addition of a few pairs of socks. While she pedaled, she watched Mitch pound the treadmill, his body not carrying an ounce of spare flesh, as you would expect in a male of his age who worked out. It only served to reinforce what he'd told her, that the hybrid biology had somehow changed his biological age by reducing it over twenty years. If it ever became known and commercialized, it would be the fountain of youth that poets wrote sonnets about and everyone tried to achieve with plastic surgery, with mixed results. It could even mean that the hybrids could be harvested, maybe put to good use, even cure illnesses that currently had no cure. While the cycle flywheel hummed beneath her, she drifted off in her mind, imagining how they'd market the new elixir of youth serum derived from the slavering jaws of the Razorbacks. Of course, their image couldn't be used, it was too violent and horrifying, and did one have to be bitten for it to work? the hybrid alive, or could they be drained of whatever element produced the wonder drug like a blood transfusion?

“Earth to Jamie?” Mitch's voice broke into her daydream. 

“What?” She blinked and found him standing in front of the bicycle, a towel around his neck, an expanse of lightly furred chest on display.

“Can you put a shirt on, please?” she groused, alarmed at the blush heating her face, turning instead to look away to the far wall. 

Mitch looked down at himself, then up at her. “Does this make you uncomfortable?”

Jamie turned back to face him, running her eyes appreciatively over his body, unaware that her face gave up every mood and emotion she was feeling. 

“Can't say it does anything for me,” she said repressively, lying through her teeth. Mitch grinned.

“Then I won't worry about it. I suppose I should mention I put on the shorts to spare your blushes. I usually exercise without a stitch, have done for the last five years in fact.” He waggled his eyebrows, still grinning then turned his back and walked away, leaving Jamie with her mouth open, watching his backside moving under the thin material of his shorts until he was out the door. 

Giving herself a shake, she realized she'd stopped pedaling at some time, sitting unmoving on her bike and ogling Mitch Morgan like a love-sick teenager. Infuriating man. Getting off the bike, she decided to put on some gloves and work out her frustrations on the punching bag instead. 

**_ day forty-five _ **

They sat opposite each other, a chessboard between them. Mitch had offered to teach her chess and she'd always wanted to learn, so they started to meet to play a couple of games after their main meal. Jamie was concentrating on the pieces, doing her best not to be distracted by the hand resting on the tabletop and fiddling with one of the discarded chess pieces. As hard as she tried, her gaze kept returning to watching the agile fingers toy with the black queen figurine, rolling, and turning it over and over between his fingers.

“Can you stop doing that?” she muttered, glancing up at him. 

Mitch raised his eyebrows. “Stop what?”

She let out a gusty sigh. “That!” she gestured to his hand.

He held up the chess piece. “This?”

Jamie looked up from the board. “Yes. That. It keeps distracting me.”

Mitch quirked the corner of his mouth into a twisted smirk. “You are easily distracted.”

She sat back, all effort to figure out her next move discarded. 

“And you are a pain in the ass.” 

He smiled, his dimples coming out to play. “But you like my ass. You keep looking at it.”

“I do not.”

“You do. I'm rather partial to your ass, as well.”

Jamie's mouth hung open in surprise for a second or two then she snapped it shut. “Stop watching my ass!”

He shrugged. “I would, but you wag it at me and I can't resist.”

She narrowed her eyes and glared at him. “You do not have permission to look at my ass, whether it wags or not, and it doesn't 'wag'!”

Mitch let go of the chess piece and it rolled across the table towards her. He leaned forward over the table. “It wags.” Then he winked at her and got up before leaving the room, abandoning the game. Jamie stared at the wall above the sink and fumed.

**_ day fifty _ **

By her calculations, it was near or around Christmas day, her daily marks giving her a rough estimate of how long she'd been at the silo. She'd found a box of Christmas decorations and lights stashed at the back of the shelves in the food store. They had a thick layer of dust on the top of the box that testified that Mitch had never used them in all the time he'd been living underground, so she decided it was time they had an airing. The last time she'd put up any Christmas ornaments was before the animal pandemic, so she looked forward to making the place look festive for a change. There was a small artificial tree, only about a meter high, that she set up in the kitchen on top of a crate covered in red fabric. There weren't a great many baubles, but she put them all on and a big star at the top. She draped tinsel around the room, threading it through cupboard handles and looped around some of the pipework, then draped lights over the fridge with another string wound around the tree. Happy with her efforts, she switched them all on then switched off the room lights and stood to admire the effect. 

“Pretty,” his voice whispered against her ear and she jumped.

“For fuck's sake, do you have to creep about the place!” She whipped around to face him. He canted his head on one side as if seriously considering her rhetorical question. He looked down at his bare feet.

“I don't creep, I just walk softly. Not my fault you're losing your hearing.”

Jamie looked up at him. “Did you just suggest that I'm getting old?”

Mitch shrugged, a smile tilting his lips. “If the tinsel fits...”

Jamie smacked her hand against his chest as if a fly had landed on his shirt front. “Horrible man!” she spluttered, fighting the smile trying to break over her face. “I'm not much older than you and technically you're way older than me!”

Mitch suddenly flicked his gaze up to something dangling over her head. Jamie tilted her head back to see what it was, her lips parting in surprise to see a sprig of something green directly overhead. Before she had a chance to ask where the hell he got greenery from when they were locked up underground, he kissed her.

It had been so long since she'd kissed anyone, so long she couldn't remember who that person had been. She welcomed his tongue slipping between her lips, tangling with it, playing while their lips slid and nipped, formed and reformed, explored and conquered, her senses reveling in the touch and taste in the brief moment that it lasted. When he pulled back she wanted to follow, to re-engage and not stop for a very long time. Instead, she opened her eyes to find him looking down at her, his eyes shadowed in the dim light cast by the fairy lights. 

“Why did you stop?” she complained, licking her lips to regain the taste of him. She stretched up on tiptoe but he moved back, hands on her shoulders to stop her. He reached up for what she had thought was mistletoe or some sort of greenery but it was just a bouquet of green paper twisted and shaped to look like a small bunch of leaves. He crushed it in his fist.

“I just wanted to wish you a merry Christmas, Jamie.”

“But...” she retorted, anger replacing frustration. “Why kiss me if you're not taking it any further?”

Mitch removed his hand from her shoulder and turned to go. “It was a stupid idea. It won't happen again.”

She stared after him, watching him leave, the imprint of his lips still felt on her own. “Damn you, Mitch Morgan...damn you to hell.”

Mitch took off his glasses and tossed them onto the bedside table before flopping down on his back, bouncing slightly on the bed covers. 

“Stupid, stupid fucktard. What the hell did you think you were doing?”

He continued to berate himself internally, his memory replaying the kiss, noting every taste and texture, the knowledge that she wanted him to kiss her adding a sweetness to the event. Then sanity had intruded and he'd ended it, far too soon if Jamie's reaction was anything to go by. Things had been going so well since he'd revealed his true self, their meetings becoming more comfortable, more teasing, more...intimate. Now he'd blown it all for the sake of a stupid kiss. Hadn't he told himself repeatedly not to become attached, to not allow an emotional connection to grow, to keep his distance? It had just been so long. Maybe he'd intended this all along, the unconscious reasoning behind bringing her here in the first place. Maybe his subconscious was trying to tell him that five years of punishing himself was more than enough, that it was time to come alive again.

Jamie wasn't aware of it, but to him, she was an open book, her emotions and yearnings easy for him to read, her doubts and fears, wishes, and desires laid bare for him to act on or ignore. Just now, he'd acted, unable to resist that kissable mouth and her own desire to be kissed. By him. 

He groaned. Instead of staying and kisses her senseless, he'd pushed her away and left her there, standing in the kitchen, in the colorful fairy lights, the tinsel reflected in her eyes. 

Hell's teeth he was an idiot. 

Jamie switched off the Christmas lights and padded out of the darkened kitchen, her feet taking her back to her room. Her empty, cheerless room. Her mind wouldn't let up reminding her of his lips on hers, his taste and smell, the reflection of the colored light in the lenses of his specs, the firm touch of his hand on her shoulder...pushing her away. She cursed under her breath and spat out the toothpaste foam, running the tap for a moment before finishing her dental routine with a floss. 

She undressed hurriedly and climbed into her bed....her empty bed. God, was this going to keep her up all night? She closed her eyes but that just made it worse, her imagination conjuring up the way his mouth felt on hers, the velvety tangle of their tongues, the heat building up as it continued. That was the problem, it didn't continue, it ended – abruptly.

Angry with herself as much as him, she pulled her covers up and resolutely set herself to sleep. It was a long time before she finally did. 

**_ day fifty-one _ **

She half expected him to avoid her as he'd done in the early days, but he didn't. He was already at the table when she entered the kitchen, his eyes meeting hers for a brief moment, then it passed and she carried on to get something to eat. When she was done and sitting opposite him, he looked up and scanned her face, noting the obvious unhappiness making her mouth droop, the skin under her eyes bruised violet from lack of sleep. 

“Jamie. We need to talk.”

She ignored him, continuing to concentrate on her breakfast. 

“About the kiss.”

She looked up. “It was just a kiss, Mitch. Nothing to get all knotted up about.”

He grimaced and plowed on anyway. “Look. I don't want you to think...that is, it could be misconstrued that I bought you here for that purpose.” He paused to allow her to chime in, but she didn't. “I wasn't trying to take advantage of you...”

Jamie looked up, dropping her bagel onto her plate. “Mitch. It was no big deal, honestly. Just a bit of fun. Shit happens.” She made to get up but he reached out to stop her. 

“Look. I thought it might be a good opening so we could talk about...”

“What? Talk about what?” She sank back into her chair. 

“Sex.”

Jamie stared at him, wondering if she'd heard right. “You want to talk about sex?”

Mitch let out a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah, doesn't everyone. No, look I thought it might be helpful, beneficial even if we engaged in a sexual relationship.” He glanced at her but she was simply listening and watching him cautiously.

“A physical relationship is good for mental health as well as physical exercise. It also helps to pass the time.” He stopped, not sure he was presenting the idea in any sort of appealing manner.

“You want us to have sex to keep us healthy?”

Mitch met her mocking eyes and cringed inwardly. Expecting derision or an emphatic no, he sat back in his chair and waited for her to shoot him down. 

“Okay. Sex as a way to stay healthy. I'm up for that.”

He heard the underlying laughter in her voice, calling his bluff for suggesting such a ludicrous reason for a sexual relationship. But she hadn't said no. 

“When do you want to add this to our regular routine?” she asked, now openly mocking him. “Before or after I finish on the bike, or maybe at the end of your time in the computer room? I'm sure I can find space in my busy schedule to squeeze you in?”

Mitch had to smile, she wasn't afraid of him and was daring him to put his idea into action. 

“I have nothing planned for the next hour. Do you?” He met her laughing eyes with his own, deadly serious stare. Jamie swallowed and nodded.

“Nothing I can't put aside for the time being.”

Mitch stood up and held out his hand. “Then let's get things started.”

Jamie couldn't believe she was going to do this, watching her own hand reach out and take his, his grip tugging her forward to follow him down the corridor to where he slept. Once they passed over the threshold he let go and walked forward to the far side of the bed. He turned to face her, a challenge in his eyes, then took off his glasses and placed them on the table beside the bed. She stood only just inside the room, nerves making her clumsy so that it took twice as long as normal to get the buttons undone on her shirt. While she fumbled, he was already down to just his boxers. Mitch flicked back the covers and got into the bed, pulling the covers up until he was covered to the waist, his hands going under them to remove his boxers and toss them to land on the floor. 

Jamie concentrated on her own attire, ignoring the fact that Mitch was now naked and waiting for her. Impatient to get it over with, she tugged down her sweatpants and knickers together, her bra already discarded so that she stood for a moment, her clothes about her feet, naked in front of him. A second later and she was walking to the bed, Mitch flicking back the covers to allow her to climb into the bed and join him. Jamie felt a gurgle of nervous giggles threaten to erupt and had to swallow hard to prevent them. Determined to brazen it out, she scooted down until her head hit the pillows and then lay there, the covers up to her shoulders, nervous and jittery like a virgin on her wedding night. 

Mitch could feel all those emotions roiling through her, but the one he hoped would be missing - was, Jamie wasn't afraid of him. Taking that as a good sign, he turned on his side and rested on his elbow, looking down into her face.

“You sure you want to do this?” he asked softly.

“You backing out already?” she fired back.

He smiled. “Never. 

Jamie twitched at the covers. “So are you going to stare at me for the full hour, or do something useful?”

He let out a chuckle. “Useful?”

Jamie stared up at him, a tentative smile curving her lips. “Sorry. Not the best word to use in this situation. Do you want to do this?”

“Yes. Yes, I do. And I think you do too.” He gave her a couple of seconds to refute his words, then lowered his head to kiss her trembling lips. This time there were no interruptions. 

Jamie had to give him credit. Mitch Morgan knew what to do with a woman in his bed. After a lengthy session just kissing, he used those wonderful hands of his to map her skin, closely followed by his lips leaving trails of tingling nerves behind him. The bed covers had been long ago pushed to the bottom of the bed, giving him the freedom to roam where he pleased, and to allow her to writhe and stretch, reveling in the attention to her long-neglected body. His hands were as busy as his mouth, stroking and caressing, molding and moving her to give him better access, her body like a willing puppet, displaying herself wantonly, not afraid to let him see all of her and do with her what he wanted. Not that she was entirely passive, just that what he was doing was driving her wild, her skin rosy and flushed, heat ebbing and flowing throughout her body, her breasts suddenly super sensitive with nipples standing proud, begging to be devoured by his mouth and suckled by his tongue. Words fell from her lips, groans issued from her throat, she was pretty sure at one point she was begging him to stop torturing her and get on with it, her fingers buried in his hair, his buried between her legs teasing her tender flesh. 

When he finally relented and moved between her thighs she spread her legs wide to welcome him, her head thrown back against the pillows in anticipation of him filling her aching heat. The first slide home made her arch her back, heels digging into his lower back, her body convulsing in the feeling of being filled to the brim, Mitch not moving until she nearly screamed at him to move, sure she'd burst into flames if he didn't. Then the ride began and she held on tightly, moaning her pleasure, squeezing internally to let him know she wanted him there, his body moving slowly at first, then more strongly, his arms wrapped around her to meld them seamlessly together, his hips working to bring on his climax, hers shuddering through her from their point of contact.

She came back to herself to find herself with her arms wrapped around his head that lay on her breast, his body still firmly planted in hers. The bed covers were gone, the pillows likewise, the sheet under her back damp with sweat, the smell of sex heavy and pungent all around them. 

He moved and she released her grip on him, letting her hands fall onto the sheet beside her head. He rose up to rest with his elbows on either side of her and looked down into her face. A twitch of his hips reminded her, as if she needed to be, that they were still most intimately joined.

“You okay?”

“Fuck yeah.”

“No pain or muscle twinges?”

“Not doctor time, Mitch...”

“Right.” Those wicked hips moved again, pulling him out a fraction before filling her up again. “Wanna go again?” He sounded so boyishly gleeful she had to open her eyes to stare up at him. Sure enough, he wore a grin from ear to ear. He instantly waggled his eyebrows. She grinned back.

“Fine. I'm just going to rest here a little bit so you go ahead and make a start, I'll join in when I get my breath back.” She closed her eyes, still smiling, the sound of his chuckle making her heart skip, his body moving slowly to empty and fill her in steady, smooth strokes. After a few seconds, she started to move with him, his mouth coming down to seal over hers, starting the dance all over again. 

In the end, one hour extended to two then, after a break and a shared shower, it was mutually decided that there was much more to explore and they simply changed the bottom sheet and went back to bed. Jamie had never considered sex in a particularly favorable light, but then she'd never had sex with a man so engaged in the activity as Mitch. When her tender bits were too sore, she got to explore his body, Mitch just as happy to allow her to play as he was to take charge. After a pleasurable top and tail, they fell asleep, Jamie waking hours later to finding herself being cuddled, her back to his front, his body keeping her toasty even without the covers on. 

From approaching the whole 'sex' idea with few expectations, she now found herself not wanting him to let her go, her skin vividly aware of his nearness, like a magnet, inexorably drawn to touch him or press against him, craving the feelings he drew out of her. 

Mitch felt those feelings reflected back to him, in no small part because he augmented them himself, enhancing and encouraging them to color the physical and make her want him, want sex more than normal. It was selfish and greedy, but her responses were more than he'd hoped for and was loath to give them up now. It was like a constant feedback loop of all the best feelings added to a really, really good physical interaction. 

They were like catnip for each other.

When she woke after that first day spent entirely in bed, some of the effects had worn off, like a good night on the bottle except without the hangover. 

Bemused at her own wild behavior, she left his bed and padded naked back to her own. After taking a lengthy shower she dressed and got into bed, her own this time, and lay there pondering just what had happened to her.

“So much for no emotional attachment!” she muttered to herself. When he'd first suggested the idea of sex as part of their daily routine, she wanted to laugh in his face, but as it fed into what she'd already been thinking herself about human contact and emotional neediness, she was never going to turn it down out of hand. From a purely physical desire point of view, he was a good-looking guy with a killer bod and she hadn't had sex in so long she'd forgotten the last time. The problem was that when he started, it became obvious it was never going to be a wham-bam, and all over in three minutes. He took his time, got her to relax and enjoy the process, then involved her completely so that once was never going to be enough. He tasted, smelt and felt delicious and she had a very sweet tooth. She gave him credit that he wasn't holding back from his own pleasure, seemingly enjoying what they were doing as much as she was. If there was anything she did that he didn't like, he didn't say so, only participated, if it was possible, even more enthusiastically, giving her free reign to let her imagination go wild. And that was only on the first day. 

It was so good it was frightening. But was it so frightening that she wouldn't do it again? That she would have to ponder and decide.

Mitch woke to an empty bed, the sheets cold indicating Jamie had been gone for a while. His body throbbed and hummed, his lungs drawing in the heady scent of female musk, one very particular to her. Everything about her called to him, his body eager to get her back and start all over again. He could feel his dick sandwiched between the mattress and his body, as stiff as stone and wanting nothing more than to bury itself in her hot, moist body again and again. It was gratifying that his body was able to recover in such short order, his stamina more than up to the task. A more sobering thought was that Jamie had left because she regretted what they'd done. It had certainly turned out to be much more than he'd expected when he'd proposed the idea, and given her nervous state when she got under the covers. But something about his lovemaking quickly routed the nerves and she participated in what followed with gratifying enthusiasm. She may not have noticed herself, but her body was glowing with health, all her curves filled out, the skin unblemished and velvety, her hair looking sleek and shiny, now reaching her shoulders and showing a hint of a wave to soften her face. Lines were gone from around her eyes, the faint trace of crows feet vanished, her skin texture creamy and soft. There was no evidence of the scarecrow, so battered and thin, that he'd stripped and showered that first day at the refugee center, her delicious body designed to give and receive pleasure, its only flaw if one cared to consider it as such - not being able to bear a child. 

Just mentioning the word brought up images of his beautiful, blond fairy child – Clementine. If she'd lived she'd be over twenty-one by now, living a life far removed from his, possibly having a partner, probably doing something interesting for a job. He closed his eyes and ground his teeth, his old demons creeping up on him. Clementine was dead and he was not responsible for that. He mentally banished his darkness back to its black hole and instead brought up images of Jamie in the throes of her passion, the flush of colors playing out on her skin as she squeezed his cock, her moans and cries making him salivate and want to do it all again – right now. 

Instead, he was alone and if she did have regrets, he'd have to work to overcome them. He'd had a taste of Jamie Campbell and once was never going to be enough. 

* * *


	4. Living The Dream

**_ January, 2027 _ **

“No.” It was the same answer she'd given in so many days. He made the suggestion, she answered in the negative, no more was said. Until the next day. Jamie had avoided him the day after, but her plan went awry from the get-go. Mitch didn't want to avoid her. He didn't pressure her, didn't try to change her mind, just asked the question and waited for her answer. When it was the same as the day before, he didn't mention it again – until the next morning. 

It was a childish game, but she wasn't prepared to budge. He didn't ask her to explain and she wasn't sure she could if she wanted to. Mitch hadn't done anything wrong, quite the reverse, but after considering everything she couldn't go through with it, not again. To do so she would have to surrender herself completely, become something that was totally out of her experience. It had only taken that one day for her to realize that she was a touch away from falling head over heels for him. She hadn't expected it to be so intense, so intimate or so thrilling. Nothing that had gone before remotely prepared her for how it would feel, how it could feel with the right person. In the few hours they'd been together in that way, he'd shown her what she'd been missing, what a truly intimate relationship with someone could be like. If they were to come together again, there was no way she could remain detached or unemotional and that floored her. Worse, she had no idea what Mitch thought about it all. Was it just a one time fling? A great way to spend a day? An excuse to have sex, regardless of who it was with? Or something else? The uncertainty made her cautious, the desire to let herself go completely scared the shit out of her. She just couldn't take that final step to open up her heart in the fear that if she did, he'd either walk in and settle down or simply trample all over it. The sheer force of the emotions pulling her back and forth was too much to bear. So she did nothing. 

Mitch could sense the battle inside her but had no idea how to help her resolve it. His way forward was clear, his first touch of her skin had sealed his fate, if he going to be melodramatic. If a hundred women were in front of him offering every enticement possible, he'd still only see her, only want her. She was in his blood and he wanted her to let him be in hers. Instead, she fought against the wishes of her heart and her desire for him, leaving them hanging in limbo with neither satisfied with the outcome. 

He wouldn't allow her to hide away, so continued as before - working out in the gym together, having a meal together at least once during their day, and making sure to engage her in a conversation, even a brief one before they retired to their separate beds for the night. It was hard work tamping down his reaction to her every time they met, but he did so because he knew if she didn't come of her own free will whatever came after was doomed from the start. And there he went with the melodrama again. 

“Fancy watching a movie later on?” he asked. 

“Okay. What did you want to watch?” she replied, looking up from the book she was supposed to be reading, but in fact, hadn't turned a page in the last twenty minutes. 

“Feel in the mood for an action flick?”

If he mentioned a comedy or worse, a romantic comedy she would have refused the offer immediately. “The library has the complete box set of the Die Hard movies?”

“Good, God. Haven't watched one of those in years!” he remarked. “How many did they make?”

“Six or seven, I think.”

“Which was your favorite?” he asked, a smile on his face as he tried to recall the varied plot lines. 

“There was one, if I remember, with a computer geek. Might have been number five or possibly six.”

“Yeah, I vaguely remember. They must be nearly thirty years old now, they started way back in the nineties.”

Jamie returned his smile, happy to have found a neutral ground for them to enjoy something together that wasn't sex. “Die Hard it is.”

“This is so cheesy,” Mitch commented before cramming a handful of buttered popcorn in his mouth. They were sitting in the 'back row' of the cinema room, the movie playing out on the screen was Live Free and Die Hard, the fifth in the series. Mitch wasn't paying much attention to the action upfront, he was more interested in the woman sitting at his side. She had her own bucket of popcorn and seemed engrossed in the movie, but her eyes kept glancing at him sideways as if checking to see if he was in fact watching with her or just gazing at her, which he found himself doing on a frequent basis. 

“Out of all the action actors, I liked Bruce the best,” she remarked, letting out a chuckle at something the actor said on screen. “His timing with a throwaway line was the best.”

Mitch flicked a look at the screen, watching the outlandish stunt before returning his attention to Jamie. She happened to glance at him at the same time and their eyes met and didn't veer away.

“So you have a thing for middle-aged bald guys who wear dirty t-shirts and get banged up a lot,” he teased.

Jamie smiled back at him. “I suppose he was middle-aged when he made this one, but they made him look buff and he was still cracking jokes.”

The movie carried on in the background, Jamie unable to bring herself to be the first to break eye contact. Her heart started to pound, her breathing quicken as the air appearing to crackle between them. 

“I want to kiss you,” he whispered hoarsely. 

Jamie hesitated, fought hard against her desire for him but it was no use, she leaned forward even while her brain told her not to. 

Mitch swore a spark jumped between them when their lips met, his hand cradling her head as he moved his mouth over hers, lips parting to allow tongues to twist and play. 

The credits were starting to roll when they finally parted, Jamie surprised to find his hand under her shirt, gently molding and stroking her breast, the nipple stiff and being tweaked sending tingles down her spine and heating her body between her legs. 

“Movie's over,” he murmured, kissing her lips in tiny pecks, drawing her bottom lip into his mouth to nibble on. 

“I know how it ends,” she whispered back, nuzzling his cheek. 

“Wanna move this to somewhere more comfortable?”

Jamie moved her hand down to cup him through his jeans. “My place or yours?”

They kissed some more, Mitch finally tearing his mouth away and breathing heavily. “Don't care, just want to sink myself into your body and melt in the heat.” He started to pull her up out of the armchair, his mouth roaming over her jaw and neck, suckling hard enough to leave hickies. 

Liking the urgency she heard in his voice, she let him shuffle her out of the room and down the corridor, a slow dance, her hands pulling his t-shirt out of his waistband, his tongue exploring the whorls of her ear and biting the lobe. 

“You taste incredible,” he groaned, stopping only long enough to pick her up, his hands under her bottom, Jamie wrapping her thighs around his waist. His arms held her effortlessly, his pace still slow and driving her demented with longing. When they finally reached his bedroom he let her slide slowly down his body, his fingers pulling her shirt over her head, her own hands busy about his zipper, the front of his jeans tented with the force of his erection. A frenzy of clothes shedding revealed their goal, bare skin on bare skin, their bodies coming together, hot and velvety, her hand finding his length and stroking from base to tip, his cock like molten steel wrapped in silk. His exploration of her readiness revealed she was more than ready for him, his fingers quickly coated, his mouth sucking them clean seconds later, sweet nectar on his tongue. 

They toppled over onto the bed, Jamie finding her legs pushed back to open her fully and his head diving down between her legs, his nimble tongue lapping at her body, drinking in her essence like the smoothest honey. He knelt on the floor and ravaged her, sucking on her tender folds and driving her wild. Her fingers combed over his head, scratching his scalp and wanting more, moaning continuously between urging him on, her body greedy for all he had to give. She came hard, coating his cheeks with her orgasm, her thighs shaking in reaction to the overstimulation. Before she had time to tell him to stop, he was up and leaning over her, his blunt instrument sliding inside with indecent ease, his hips working to withdraw then thrust home, his breathing ragged and harsh, his voice a guttural growl as he worked to find his climax, waves of pure sensation washing over him like lightning down his spine, his body a living flame, his purpose to give her pleasure and fulfill his own need to bind her to him. 

Once the tempest died down they rested, arms wrapped around each other, legs entwined, hearts and breathing in relaxed harmony.

With her nose pressed to the hollow at the base of his throat, Jamie hummed contentedly, her fingers kneading his back, her breasts flattened against his chest. 

“I hate you,” she whispered, her lips against his skin.

“Hmmm,” he replied, already halfway to sleep. 

“You made me want you so badly I broke my own rules.”

“Rules are made to be broken,” he rumbled.

“You don't want emotional detachment...”

“Never said that.”

“It was implied. I wasn't going to do this again.”

“Glad you did. I wanted you so badly...”

“Why can't I stop wanting you?”

He remained silent, his heart beating regularly under his ribs, against her breasts.

Jamie tried again. “I think...”

“Don't think, just feel.”

“Don't interrupt.”

“Sorry.”

“I think that if we keep doing this I might just...”

“What?”

Her emotions were choking her. “I might love you, and it scares me to death.”

Again, he didn't reply, but he did move. Pulling them apart so he could cradle her face in his hands, his thumb wiping away a tear that had escaped to roll down her cheek. 

“I'll catch you if you fall, Jamie. Don't be afraid, I won't let anything or anyone hurt you.” He bent his head and kissed her, not in passion but with a gentle reassurance that promised to keep her safe. 

“I'm afraid that you will hurt me.”

Mitch pulled back, his thumb catching another tear. “If I ever was so foolish, I would only be hurting myself. You are all I think about, all I care about, Jamie. Trust me. Let me protect you, let me...love you.”

Jamie stared up at him, his eyes so clear and cloud-free, nothing hidden from her.

“I want to...”

He smiled. “You just have to let go and let it happen.” He shifted and gathered her close, surrounding her with his body, trying his best to let her know she had him now. 

The knot of uncertainty she carried around so long started to loosen a little, the loneliness and doubt easing, flaking away like old paint, her fear lessening just a little, a crack starting to open wide and letting light in to banish the insecurities. Maybe, despite the strangeness of their coming together this was meant to be, that she could be all he wanted and he would be everything she needed. 

Feeling a sense of calm spread through her, she closed her eyes and surrendered to sleep. Above her head, his chin resting on her crown, Mitch contemplated the choices that had led him to this point in time. He felt when she slipped into sleep, her tangled emotions soothed and placated, her body giving up its last defense and allowing him to lead them forward. 

It had been years since he'd felt anything like this, a feeling of happiness, contentment, and peace. It couldn't last forever, but while it did, before the world and its worries intruded, they could build on what was started here and now, and face what was to come together. 

Of course, if she ever learned of his particular abilities, her wrath would quite probably be spectacular. It would be something to look forward to. 

And...there he was, being all melodramatic again. 


	5. Shock Tactics

**_ February, 2027 _ **

He couldn't hide what was coming from her any longer. A couple of months before there had been little to follow up about the possibility of a missile bombardment of the west coast with nukes. Now that chatter had become a political football, the proposal out in the public domain and in the news headline with every information channel discussing the implications and possible outcome. 

He had overheard several conversations between his former teammates, Abe and Jackson while Jackson and his partner, Tessa, were being processed through the refugee center in Omaha, before being allowed to continue on to live with Abe and Dariela, who were in Ann Arbor, Michigan. There had been nothing new to report, other than the increased talk about bombing the hybrids and the illogical use of nukes to do so. 

Now the talks were reaching a crisis, and if he didn't want to be immured underground for the rest of his life, he and Jamie would have to leave. 

He left the command hub and wandered towards the library, Jamie's favorite haunt. She had suggested that she might have a go at writing a book, a novel about her time in the west, the evacuation of the population from her point of view. He had encouraged her, Jamie spending time in the library reading up about the state they were in to fill the gaps in her knowledge.

When he entered, she looked up and sent him a broad smile. He paused, staring back and just enjoying the picture she made. 

“Hey,” he said, reaching the table and pulling over a chair to sit down beside her. “How's war and peace coming along?”

“Ha. Ha. Everyone's a comedian. I'm still working on the synopsis before I start writing the story itself. I'm also writing notes so I don't forget anything while it's relatively fresh in my mind.”

“Hmmm.” 

She looked at him, noting the lines of strain about his mouth.

“What's up?”

Mitch let out a sigh. “We're going to have to leave here, and soon.”

Jamie stared back at him, her eyes wide. “Why? What about the hybrids? What about the weather?”

“There are plans to bomb the whole west coast to destroy the hybrids,” he told her bluntly. 

“What about any people not already evacuated? We can't be the only ones still here.”

“Probably not. But anyone not found by Dylan and his teams is now given up for dead. The last flight has long gone and they aren't coming back. The only thing stopping them from dropping the bombs already is that nobody wants to be the one responsible for what could be a global catastrophe. Even one nuclear missile could cause irreparable damage felt all around the world.”

“Didn't you once say this command center could take a near hit and still be standing?”

“I did, and it probably could, but we would be pretty much stuck in here for the rest of our lives. We could never go out, we could lose all our electronics from the EMP pulse, and it could destroy our power sources. Do you really want to be here and living with only candles, no heating, no refrigeration? Because I don't and I don't want you to either.”

“No, I suppose when you put it that way.”

“So we need to leave, and soon.”

“What about the hybrids?”

“In that, the weather is working in our favor. They won't want to go far from their den, and my truck can negotiate pretty much anything it comes up against. Remember, this isn't my first winter here.”

Jamie looked around the room then back at him. “I'll miss all this.”

Mitch reached for her hand. “I will too, and if they decided not to nuke the shit out of this place we can come back here, but now we need to get the hell out of Dodge.”

Later, Jamie joined him in the communication center and watched some of the news feeds. Not because she didn't believe him, she just wanted to see them with her own eyes, and he didn't disagree. She needed to know what was going on outside in the world, not only outside the silo. The security cameras revealed no recent movement from the hybrids, the ground around the garage showing no paw prints or activity, nothing since the last big snow dump. 

They worked on pulling goods to take with them from the food store, packing only what they could carry in his truck, the space strictly limited. Mitch had decided they would make for the main command center for the barrier at Boulder, Colorado about eleven hundred miles south from Joseph, Oregon. They'd have to pass through four states and, depending on the roads, it would take a couple of days. On good roads with fine weather, it would normally only take about fifteen hours door to door, but Mitch wasn't expecting either and he prepared as much as he could for any and all eventualities. 

His plans for when they reached Boulder and were able to pass through the barrier were a bit more fluid. He had an idea to contact his former teammates, have a dramatic 'come back from the dead' party, and take it from there. Mostly he just wanted to get as far away from Joseph as possible and long before the first bomb dropped. 

It took a day after they finished compiling their lists of essentials, to collect and bring them up in the lift to the garage and pack the truck. Mitch used the small workshop in the garage to beef up the truck's protection as well as install some more electronics to help them navigate and keep tabs on the news. The tires were replaced with big, honking off-road tires and snow chains, the roof rack loaded with food and water, protected by a metal cage and covered in a thick canvas tied down securely. They carried a selection of weapons, big and small, ammunition, some spares in case of a breakdown, and extra fuel if the trip took longer than expected. If they didn't reach the barrier and had to spend a night on the road, they were well prepared. 

After a final meal in the kitchen, they had done all they needed to do except getting a good night's sleep. Mitch wanted to do a final sweep of his monitoring equipment, check for any last-minute communique's from Abe or Jackson, then shut it all down.

He opened up the latest data file and slipped on the headphones. Jackson and Tessa had decided to take a trip to Washington, DC to try and petition against the use of nuclear missiles to solve the hybrid issue on the west coast. They hoped to join the protesters demanding a public referendum on the issue, the senate and congress already split over the use of nukes on American soil. 

“Abe, it's me,”

“Rafiki, how it is going for you and the lovely Tessa?”

“It's pretty bad here. We've been billeted with one of the organizers of the rally, and they're taking good care of us. If they only knew who I was they might not be so hospitable.”

“I do not believe that. You saved the animals. You're not responsible for what happened afterward.”

“Tell that to the rabid protestors calling for the death of the son of Robert Oz. It's still a hot button topic here in the capital. Every day there's a protest rally about something or other. The national guard is everywhere, shootings happening on a regular basis between protester and police. It's crazy.”

“Be careful you don't get shot yourself, Rafiki.”

“I am. Tessa constantly nags me not to make myself a target.”

“I knew there was a reason I loved that woman.”

The friends laughed together for a moment. 

“Hey, Abe I met up with a young man who reckoned he knew me, but I swear I've never seen him before?”

“What did he want?”

“Said his name was Sam Parker and he wanted me to go with him to meet his girlfriend. Tessa was with me at the time, so it wasn't some cheesy pickup line from a pimp.”

“Odd. What was he like?”

“Young, colored, articulate, and appeared absolutely serious.”

“Are you going?”

“He said something that makes me think I should.”

“What?”

“He said I knew his girlfriend's father from when she was a child.”

“Good, God. Did he give his girlfriend's name?”

“No. Just said I'd understand when I met her.”

“Maybe he recognized you from ten years ago, but he'd have been only a child himself back then.”

“That's what I thought. The only person I can think of is Mitch's daughter, Clementine.”

Mitch pressed the stop button on the recording and ripped off the earphones. What the hell? Clementine was dead, wasn't she? He reviewed the source of the news he was told ten years ago, and by whom. Had she lied to him? Had she just been manipulating him again, finding his weak spot only to plunge her knife in and twist it? He wouldn't put it past her to do just that. Hell's teeth, was his daughter truly alive after all this time?

He picked the headphones up and put them back on, toggling the play button and holding his breath.

“Well, we did get to her in time, Rafiki, so there's no reason she wouldn't be alive. I admit we rather lost touch with her after she was put into foster care.”

“Didn't Mitch's father come forward and claim her?”

“Don't know. It was chaotic back then with so many kids orphaned. It's possible Max Morgan stepped up when he leaned his son had died.”

“Then I think, for the sake of Mitch's memory I go with this Sam Parker and find out for myself.”

“Be careful, Rafiki. It could still be a trap.”

“I'll go prepared, Abe. Don't worry. I'll call you right after I see if it's true.”

Mitch switched off the recording, staring at the date and time for a moment before taking off the headphones and tossing them on the bench. He couldn't change his plans now, he and Jamie were all set to leave when they awoke in the morning. He couldn't fit anything more into or on top of the truck, so he'd have to leave his monitoring equipment behind. This emphatically pre-empted his original plans, he'd have to go and see Abe and Dariela in Ann Arbor after they crossed the barrier to find out for himself if his daughter was, in fact, still alive.

It was just before dawn when they entered the lift for their final trip to the surface. Everything in the silo had been shut down, switched off, or left on, in the case of the refrigerated units. The security cameras were left on in standby mode to activate in the event of movement only, instead of continuous. Mitch would have a limited satellite connection with the silo, notifications of changes indicating something catastrophic happening his only information – if the bomb dropped they'd know about it, if the silo flooded or burned, he'd know. With one last look around, they entered the lift and rode it to the garage above. With that secured, Mitch powered down the independent motor from the concealed panel. To anyone finding a way into the garage, the lift was once more invisible and with it access to what was underground. 

Together they climbed into the truck, making a last-minute check before turning the key in the ignition. It fired up first pop, Jamie using the remote to open the roller door. Snow lay several feet deep against the door, the surface smooth and unbroken. Driving forward slowly, the tires crunched easily over the drift, the roller door sliding closed behind them. Jamie secured the remote and gripped the handhold above her head as the truck rolled forward, the headlights and spotlights illuminating the ground ahead. Mitch kept checking the side mirrors for any evidence their departure was noticed by the Razorbacks in the house, the lack of movement in the rear camera feed allowing some of the tension to leech out as they continued to roll down the driveway, over the broken chain-link gate and out onto the snow-covered road. Jamie checked the infrared feed, seeing nothing in their immediate vicinity, allowing her to relax a little more. 

“All clear.”

“Good to know. The sun will be up in an hour, but for now, we'll take it slow and keep an eye open.”

“You okay?” she asked, Mitch, glancing briefly at her.

“Fine. Why do you ask?”

“Just wondered, you seemed a little tense last night. Did you hear anything new about the missile strike?”

“The decision is still stalled in the senate. No one wants to be the one responsible for blowing up California and unless they can come to an agreement with Canada and have Mexico onboard, it's a pointless exercise.”

“Makes sense.” Jamie turned to stare out the side window, glancing occasionally at the monitor, keeping watch. 

Mitch kept his vision front and forward, his focus on keeping the truck on the road, not prepared to discuss what he'd heard about his daughter. 

As the sky lightened, the snow-covered trees and landscape became clearer, the road easy to follow despite the blanket of white covering all markings and signs. 

Despite the slow going, they reached the t-junction where the Rail Canyon Road met the Inmaha Highway, Mitch turning to the left to take them back towards Joseph. The snow had stopped falling, a stiff wind blowing the new layer of snow off the roadway, creating drifts, and leaving a narrow corridor down the middle to negotiate. In this silent world they kept up a steady, if not fast, speed, reaching Joseph and turning north to follow the eight-two, the Wallawa Lake Highway which would then head west to circumnavigate the offshoot of the Cascades mountain range that cradled the Wallowa glacial lake and comprised of the Sacajawea Peak at its center, Aneroid mountain to the east and Red Mountain to the south. With no usable pass through the ranges, they had no choice but to detour around them. There was little evidence of any life, human or animal venturing out on that snowy, cold morning, what few abandoned vehicles they saw were just humps buried in the snow at the side of the highway. Traveling as they were down the middle line, there was not much to delay them. 

Inside the truck, the thermostat was set to barely warm, rather than hot. With both of them wearing cold-weather clothing, they didn't want to get hot and start peeling it off. If they had an accident their thermal clothing could save their lives at these temperatures. 

The eighty-two merged into the eighty-four south at La Grande, the city not much more than a ghost town, no evidence of wheel tracks in the thin covering of snow, drifts uncleared from the doorways of buildings or the footpath, few vehicles left behind by the fleeing populace, probably all abandoned at the airport with the last flight out. Now they were no longer heading west, but directly south, the interstate an easy drive with only a relatively thin layer of snow to negotiate. It also helped to deaden the regular clunk of the chains on the road, Mitch keeping the speed down, in no mood to push their luck with hidden ice patches. It would extend the time it took to reach Boulder, but the weather would inevitably dictate their speed. Not much point in speeding when you'll end up in a ditch in the middle of nowhere Oregon. 

When the watery sun was at its meager zenith, they stopped to have a hot drink and something to eat. They were at the border with Idaho, parked on the Devo bridge over the Snake River, enjoying the views. Jamie would drive the next stretch to reach Twin Falls, Idaho. There, they would assess the weather, before pushing on to their night stop – somewhere near Salt Lake City, Utah. 

With the absence of people and no sighting of local wildlife, it was as if they were the only two people on the planet. When she got out of the truck to get on the driver's side, she peered over the side of the bridge at the black water swirling past underneath, chunks of ice drifting on the surface. She gave a shiver and darted around the truck, climbing into the driver's seat as Mitch exited. Taking off her gloves, she waited for Mitch to climb in again before starting the motor. Soon they left the river behind them, rolling south for another two hundred miles at a steady pace. 

A herd of deer was their first sight of any life in the white flecked landscape, the animals bounding through the drifts some distance ahead, Jamie not slowing as they ran over the tracks and forged ahead. Mitch was dozing in the passenger seat, one booted foot on the dashboard, his face pillowed on the fur lining of his hood against the side window. 

“Mitch!” Jamie's cry and the juddering of the truck as she slammed on the brakes woke him abruptly, the seat belt stopping him catapulting into the windscreen. Ahead, the road was filled with an enormous herd of the woolly rhinoceros hybrid, the animals just standing in the road, steam spiraling off their shaggy pelts, clouds of vapor appearing as they breathed out into the cold air. 

Jamie had brought the truck to a stop a hundred feet from the herd, the tires barely skidding despite the sudden stop. 

“What now?”

Mitch closed his eyes, stretching out to sense the animals clustered together up ahead. 

“They don't seem to be particularly alarmed or interested in us,” he reported, as if purely from observation. 

Jamie glanced over at him. “Do we just wait for them to move?”

Mitch squinted at her. “Nope. We behave the same way they do. We drive through them, nice and slow, no sudden movements or sounds...like you would with cattle or sheep.”

Jamie gaped at him. “Have you taken a look at how big these things are? They'd reach the roof of the truck easily. And they have horns?”

Mitch grinned. “So do we, just keep your hand off it, a noise like that could make them stampede or attack.”

“Well, duh!” Jamie retorted, wiping her suddenly sweaty hands down her trouser leg. “Slow and steady, no sudden moves.”

“That's the way. Just roll forward as if we're letting gravity move us along.”

Jamie did just that, the truck barely moving as she let the motor just turn the wheels over, the chains crunching slowly over the dusting of snow. The heat from the closely packed animals had already melted the snow and ice where they stood, the road starkly black under their hooves. 

“They're not moving, Mitch.”

“Keep moving, slow, and steady.” He stared at the hybrids, willing them to part, projecting nothing but peace, complete lack of aggression, and no threat from the truck. Just as the bullbars protecting the grill came within an inch of the first woolly rhino it started to move, casting a leery eye at the vehicle, but moving one step at a time to form a gap, the one behind it doing the same. Inch by inch the truck found a gap between the animals, their leathery hides so close they brushed against the side of it, the sheer bulk of them making the vehicle rock as they moved just enough to allow it through. As they entered the herd, the ones behind closed ranks, cutting off any escape, the beast now surrounding them, the only way clear being directly in front, the windows blocked by the huge, plated bodies up to the roof. Anyone watching would only see the supplies covered by a tarpaulin on the roof rack, a strange parcel being carried on the backs of the hybrids. Jamie couldn't stop the tremors making her hands shake on the steering wheel, Mitch reaching across to cover on with his own, reassuring her that she wasn't alone and they would make it. The herd was enormous, taking up the road for almost a mile and it took almost twenty minutes, at a creeping pace, to finally make their way through them. When the last hairy back moved to let them through Jamie let out a whoosh of air, panting as she tried to remain calm, the truck still moving at a snail's pace despite being clear of them.

“Give it a little gas, not too much, just enough to get us further away,” Mitch instructed, looking in the side mirror to see if the animals were following or still standing there, blocking the highway. 

“They're moving off the road now, heading for the trees. Don't slow down, just keep increasing the speed a little at a time. You're doing fine...”

Jamie stared at the speedo, watching the needle creep up a single section at a time. When the road started to bend, she pushed her foot down, the truck gaining speed, the crunch of the chains loud. Her own side mirror showed her they were out of sight of the hybrids and safe. 

“God. That was terrifying. I thought for sure we were in trouble.” She glanced over at Mitch, seeing him frown and use his fingers to massage the bridge of his nose.

“What's wrong?” she asked, not taking her eyes off the road. 

“Just a headache. I'm not as proficient as Jackson with this stuff. I don't get enough practice.”

Jamie shot him a sharp glance, frowning herself. “What is it that Jackson is proficient at?”

Mitch looked up, aware that he'd just potentially opened Pandora's box. 

“He was bitten by an infected dog. We had just lost the panther cub we'd found in Africa that was still in the first stages of the defiant pupil infection. We thought we could create a vaccine from the cat's blood, but a birdstrike as we were approaching the east coast brought our plane down, and the panther was lost to the sea, or so we thought. In fact, it had survived the crash and was fished out of the sea by a fisherman near the border of New Brunswick. Long story short, we temporarily broke up the team as we'd reached a dead end. I ended up in New York, drinking myself into a stupor most afternoons. Abe got a job with a firm that organized drivers to act as security for anyone wanting safe passage around the city, and Jackson, well he went out after dark and got bitten by a big dog. After that he developed a reaction to the bite, it got infected and he suffered hallucination, it was a mess. He was actually creating an immune response that would produce antibodies that could create a serum to cure the animals, only he needed help to do that. That's when his father appeared and offered an alternative, using him to transfuse with Jackson and create sufficient serum and counter the effects in his son. It worked but killed Robert. Since that experience, Jackson could communicate subconsciously with come of the bigger predators, most successfully with the big cats.”

“His pride of lions? He said he controlled them with a whistle!” Jamie remarked.

“Well, he would. Bit hard to explain that you can control lions with a simple thought. He'd be dissected and put on display in a week.”

Jamie glanced over at him before turning her attention back on the road. 

“And you can do this too?”

“Not exactly. That was my first time actually attempting to use what ability I have. I'm kinda pleased it worked so well.”

“So you just thought at them, and they moved apart?”

“Something like that. Only problem, it gave me one hell of a headache.”

Jamie let that stew in her brain for several minutes until he'd found the first aid box, pulled out some pain medication, and swallowed them down with a swig of water. 

“How did you know you could even do that if you've never tried before?”

He could hear the note of skepticism in her voice.

“I thought it was worth a try. It was only when I saw Jackson use his skill on those lions when I arrived at the refugee center that I wondered if I could do something similar.”

He could practically see the thoughts turning over in Jamie's brain, putting two and two together to reach the conclusion of five. 

“Are you able to influence people, like you just did with the hybrids?”

He inwardly winced. Tell the truth or lie through his teeth?

“I didn't know I could do something like that, so no. What reason could I have and what would I make them do? Move out of the way?” He ended on a small laugh to make it sound ludicrous and unlikely. 

Jamie sent him a sideway grimace, probably thinking the same thing. To some extent what he said was true. That was the first time he'd tried to influence a living being by just using his thoughts, but that wasn't his strong suit. Instead, he was sensitive to the thoughts and feelings of those around him, more so than simple intuition or reading body language, he could almost mind read, knowing a person's emotional state, their needs and desires, and tailoring his responses accordingly. If they were afraid, he reassured, if emotional, he sympathized, if they lied, he knew it straight away. It gave him an edge, one he used to his advantage. He couldn't make them do something they didn't want to, but he could manipulate a situation to suit his purpose. None of that illuminating explanation would go down very well with Jamie right now.

“So you haven't used your superpowers on me?” she asked, the million-dollar question.

“No. I have no superpowers, not really.”

Jamie's attention was back on the road. “Oh, I wouldn't say that. You have some wicked superpowers in the sack. I'll vouch for those!”

He laughed, as she intended him to. Her throaty chuckle making him want to kiss her senseless and do some of those wicked things with her right that instant. 

Instead, he thanked the Gods for getting him out of that potential disaster without entirely perjuring himself. 


	6. Layover

It was dark when they arrived at the outskirts of Salt Lake City, daylight a thin line on the horizon. Mitch was back driving since they'd swapped places in Twin Falls, Idaho but now they needed to find somewhere secure to spend the night. The roads on the approach had turned to slush, the chains even noisier than usual, so they stopped and took them off to allow them to cruise through the semi-lit street in relative silence. Some areas were in complete darkness, while others still had some streetlights operating along with commercial signs, the business' they advertised dark and lifeless.

“Where are we heading for?” Jamie asked, peering into the darkness, seeing no signs of life. “Do you think they took all their pets with them?”

“Unlikely, unless they drove them out, or carried them. Most commercial flights won't take pets unless they are companion animals or guide dogs.”

“Poor things.”

“Yeah. Most will have died from cold or starvation, some killed by predators to provide a meal. Dogs are the most likely to survive, although cats are good at finding inaccessible hiding places, so it's an even split who will survive until spring.” 

Jamie snorted. “None at all if they bomb the place.”

“True that.”

They continued in silence, the headlights picking up the very occasional flash of a small animal's eyes but it was always gone when they reached that spot, not even tracks to mark its passing. 

Eventually, he pulled into a public storage business, the rows of lock-ups dark and silent as the rest of the city. 

“Wait here.” Mitch got out of the truck next to the office. Breaking in easily to get information about what, if any of the storage bays was available. It was a short search as they needed one of the bigger units to house the truck. With a quick search, he found a map indicating which was available and which in use. The key for the unit was hanging on a pegboard so he took that and went back to the truck. The main gate hung open as if someone had driven a vehicle through and several of the storage bay had been broken into, the roller doors up and the bays empty. Finding the one he'd picked out, he handed the key to Jamie who hopped out and unlocked the storage unit. The door lifted easily and she stood back to allow Mitch to drive the truck in with plenty of room to spare. He left the headlights on while she secured the roller door, then he killed the motor, plunging them into darkness. The beam of a torch appeared and Mitch got out of the truck. 

“Home sweet home,” he announced, his voice sounding hollow in the empty space. A skylight in the roof let in a little light from a distant streetlamp but not much, but was also able to let light out, potentially betraying their presence.

To that end, they worked to unpack the truck enough to allow them to arrange the back tray into a bed, and then prepared a hot meal with a camp stove. They ate in the semi gloom with just one small torch for light, enough to see with once their eyes adjusted. Mitch rummaged and produced a tiny, infrared wireless camera that he could access with an iPad, to give them a heads up if anyone was outside when it came time to leave. The unit was actually accessible from front and back, another camera placed there for the same purpose. Their security in place, they settled on the makeshift bed in the back of the truck, relying on shared body heat and their thermal gear to keep them snug. 

“Makes you realize how spoilt we were in the silo,” Mitch remarked, shifting his hips to get comfortable. 

“Better than a bed of twigs, even so,” Jamie retorted. “And warmer.”

“Yeah. I guess you didn't have a happy time of it before you reached the refugee center.”

“Not unless you like sleeping in wet clothes on the damp ground with nothing but bark and snails to eat!”

“I'll pass on that. Give me a hard metal truck bed and a lumpy sleeping bag anytime.”

Jamie giggled at his mock complaining. She couldn't see his face in the pitch black, but his voice was enough.

“So what's the plan once we reach the barrier command?”

“We drive on through to the other side.”

Jamie waited for him to elaborate, but after a few seconds spoke again.

“And then?”

“I was thinking of looking up my old teammates, maybe have a party to celebrate my Lazarus trick and catch up on old times.”

He sounded nonchalant, but Jamie thought there was something, a hint of bitterness in his tone. 

“Did they deliberately leave you behind?”

“No. Not exactly. I just didn't tell them how dire the situation was or how close we all were to not getting off that island alive.”

“You sacrificed yourself so they could escape,” she stated. 

“I thought it was for the best, at the time. Someone had to stay and keep the fence electrified, and the hybrids were already in the control center, only a door between me and them.”

“God, Mitch.” 

“Yeah. I didn't expect to wake up after that. As it turned out, there were still others on the island and after my team got away, they came back to the command center, found me, and took me with them.”

“Who were they?”

“Her name was Abigail Westbrooke. None of us realized that Robert Oz had another child sometime after his own son was born. I don't know where she grew up or who with, but at some time, after Robert Oz left his first wife, Elizabeth, and possibly after leaving his second wife, Minako he was re-introduced to his second child – Abigail and she stayed with him. By then he was part of the Shepherd organization and she worked with him on their grand scheme to change the world.”

This time the bitterness was front and center, Mitch holding nothing back. 

“She came back for you?”

“It wasn't out of any goodness of her heart, that woman has no heart. She wanted me to replace her father in the brains department. She needed a cohort to help her finish her work, a henchman to do her bidding and be like her, without conscience or morals. She kept me alive, patched me up in a rudimentary way, and then planned to implant a device in my brain, a bio drive that would make me subservient to her wishes.”

“It sounds so...machiavellian.”

“When I awoke the first time, she told me my team had survived but not reached my daughter in time, that Clementine had died. I was only barely recovered from the razorback attack and took it hard. I think I went out of my head for a time, that was when Abigail decided I needed to be put out of my misery.”

“She was going to kill you?”

“Nope. Just put a bio drive in my head that would suppress my own personality and replace it with another, one that would serve her without question.”

“No. Is such a thing possible?”

“Not according to the first time it was used. All the test subjects died.”

“Oh, no.”

“Yeah. She had tweaked the design, but I was still going to be another test subject for the device. If it worked, great, if it didn't...well, I was already assumed dead, it would just become a fact.” He drew in a shuddering breath, still finding the retelling upsetting despite all the years since it happened. “Anyway, I was mostly recovered from my wounds, thanks to the hybrid that tried to kill me. It injected through its bite a ton of its own genetically altered slobber and that started the change in me. I think I was a test subject for Abigail on all sorts of fronts, not least the bio drive.”

“How did you escape?” Jame asked, caught up in the tale. 

“Pure dumb luck. Abigail had a few followers and a pet chimp that she had tried to hybridize – Abendegos. She used him as a watchdog, keeping tabs on me and the others. I was able to slip a sedative into his food, knocking him out for several hours when Abigail was away from where she was keeping me. With Abendegos out of commission, I used an animal dart gun and took down her stooges, and made my escape. She had scheduled the operation to insert the bio drive for a day after, so I had to get out of there before she could mess with my brain. When I got out of the building, I found myself a world away from South America in Singapore, of all places. I didn't have much time so I headed for the port, to hide out until I could figure out what to do next. I needed to get off the island as quickly as possible otherwise Abendegos would be able to track me down easily.” He paused, reliving his harrowing escape and the terror that gripped him at the time. Like a thriller movie, it was all playing out in his mind's eye, his emotions at the time now choking him. 

Jamie didn't push him to continue, just lay there in the dark, her hand finding his and holding on tight. Just when she thought he must have drifted off, he spoke again.

“Not really much to tell after that. I found a friendly fisherman who would take my watch in payment for passage up the coast to Kuala Lumpur, from there I hoped to trade my medical skills for passage on a freighter or maybe a container ship to get me to Europe, anything to get me beyond Abigail's reach. This was all while the world was recovering from the animal crisis, so not having paperwork or identification was not unusual, and you did what you could.”

“You couldn't go to any of the embassy's for help?”

“No. I was considered dead, and when I found out how long I'd been in Abigail's...care, it was too late, the hybrids were invading the American west coast even while the States were cleaning up the mess with the animals, and the realization that women were unable to conceive. Everwhere was chaotic, so I grew a beard, earned my passage on a ship that was taking refugees to Africa, jumped ship at Mombassa, on the east coast of Kenya, eventually caught an overland refugee caravan that took me as far as Khartoum, where I worked at an army medical unit for a while. After my time there I was granted a ride on a US troop transport back to the states. By then the hybrid crisis was ramping up, the barrier was near completion and I wanted to find a bolt hole and settle for a while.”

“So you chose a silo?”

“Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Jamie didn't ask any more questions. Mitch had obviously never told anyone about the years after his supposed 'death'. How he'd traveled the world to get himself home despite having little to come home to. 

“I'm sorry.”

The fingers holding his hand squeezed lightly, acknowledging he'd heard her. Eventually, Jamie slept, her head resting on his shoulder. Mitch lay for a long time staring up at the roof of the truck and chewing over the last ten years of his life and the choices he'd made. In the end, he succumbed to sleep, the comforting sound of Jamie breathing near his ear, her hand still clasped in his own. 

Jamie awoke with a start, disorientated to find herself surrounded by darkness. The space next to her was empty and she sat up, a shot of panic spiking in her chest.

“Mitch?” her voice sounded loud and she twisted to try and see something outside the truck. Seeing and hearing nothing, she kicked her sleeping bag clear of her feet and pulled on her boots. Clambering over into the passenger seat, she switched on the monitoring screens for the cameras Mitch had set up outside the storage unit. The picture coalesced and she gasped, hardly believing her eyes. The resolution was not great, but it appeared that the area front and back were filled with razorback hybrids, some of them standing still, while others streamed past like a migrating herd, not pausing to see why the others were standing still. All she could see was wall to wall Razorbacks and no sign of Mitch, her breath tight in her chest as she squinted at the dark images, the infrared view showing multitudes of red bodies with eerie yellow faces packed together and facing the roller door and the camera. The clock on the dashboard showed it was still an hour away from sunrise, the animals continuing to stream past without stopping. Terrified that Mitch was somehow outside, she checked that the handguns were fully loaded, in preparation if necessary to go outside and find him. As her fingers fumbled with loading one of the guns, a sob broke from her lips, her fears making her clumsy. She glanced up at the outside monitor and nearly dropped the gun in her shock at what she saw. A figure, obviously of a man, was walking through the pack of creatures, the animals parting for him, none of them making any overt move to attack him. His body was substantially darker on the infrared view, being encased in thermal clothing to keep his body heat within, not bleeding into the cold air, so his face and hands were bright, but not the rest of him. When he reached the roller door she held her breath, glancing between the thermal imaging and the black and white view, the human figure holding up a hand to point in the same direction all the others were going. As if just waiting for that signal, the Razorbacks turned, almost as one, and started joining the slowly dwindling mass of their fellow hybrids. It took another fifteen minutes before the area in front of their storage unit was completely clear of the creatures, the figure standing and watching them go never moving. Then he reached down to lift the door up, the metal screeching loudly and making Jamie wince. She stayed in the cab until the roller door was once more lowered and locked, Mitch walking across the concrete floor to the passenger side door, his expression thoughtful. 

“What in all fucking hell was that all about?” Jamie shouted at him, her fear making her temper sharp. Mitch opened the passenger door and gently lifted the gun from her hand, placing it on the dashboard.

“I went for a walk,” he explained. Jamie gaped open-mouthed at him.

“You went for a walk?” her voice had risen to almost a shriek, her nerves raw from watching the cameras. “You went for a walk...of course you did. Surrounded by God know's what, you went for a walk,” her voice was becoming softer, but it was only a lull. “I thought you had left me! I thought you must be dead when I saw the camera feed!” She was shouting now, her fear for him and herself turned to anger. Jamie Campbell was incensed.

“Jamie...listen...” Mitch started but she cut him off.

“No. No. No. Of all the stupid, dangerous, hair-brained things you could have done...what do you expect me to do if you get yourself killed?”

Mitch sighed, understanding her fear and anger, but was also riding a high because of what he'd discovered about his abilities. 

“Are you done?” he asked. Jamie stared at him, her anger still burning brightly, but something in his eyes kept her tongue between her teeth. 

Mitch took her silence as encouragement to speak.

“Look. I didn't think I was able to influence the animals but I did it with the woolly rhino things, and I needed to know that I could protect you if we found ourselves in a situation involving the Razorbacks or any other hybrid we come across.” He indicated with his head the roller door and the outside. “They woke me up.”

Jamie jumped in. “How? I didn't hear anything?”

“You wouldn't, at least not yet. I think my latent abilities are coming to the fore because there are so many more of the hybrids. They've become louder. I can't really explain what it sounds like, but I couldn't ignore it, so I decided to see exactly what I could do.”

Jamie shook her head. “So you just went out there, on the off chance that you could prevent them from tearing you to bits?”

Mitch shrugged. “It did. I can't control them, the way that Jackson can instruct his lions. Maybe that's something purely between a hybrid and a hybrid or maybe just something peculiar to me.” He furrowed his brows. “I couldn't....” He paused, searching for the right words. “I couldn't let you die because I hadn't explored my latent abilities sufficiently to protect you.”

Jamie tilted her head, her anger melting away. “You have such a white knight complex, it's what got you nearly dead in the first place.”

“But I didn't die...”

“But you could have...”

“But I didn't. After a cursory inspection, they let me be. They knew you were inside the storage unit, which is why they congregated there. They couldn't tell if you were friend or foe. They only knew you were human, and thereby the enemy.” 

“So you can talk to the creatures?”

“Not exactly, something like they accept me as one of their own, making me no longer a target to be destroyed.”

“But everyone else is on their kill list.”

Mitch nodded. “Yup. But I sense that isn't their normal behavior, despite appearances. I got the feeling that someone was projecting all the hate and distrust of humans on to them and they were following without being able to follow their inclinations independently. Someone is controlling them.”

“Like Abigail wanted to put that bio drive in your head to control you?”

Mitch looked up. “Yes. Exactly like that.”

“So Abigail is controlling them?”

“Normally I would respond by saying that no one person could control that many animals, but logically that's the only explanation. Maybe not all animals, only the hybrids and only with simple commands, like you use on a dog.”

“Sit, fetch, roll over?” Jamie clarified.

“Exactly. She's calling them now to go south, but what's supposed to happen then I don't know.”

Jamie let out a sigh. “Well, we're all up now, why don't we get back on the road and get to the barrier. They may now something more there.”

“Good idea. I'll go open up the door, you start on the repacking and we'll get out of here.”

With the truck packed and refueled they headed out in the predawn light, Mitch driving for the first part of the expected eight-hour trip to the Barrier Command at Boulder. Without any mishaps or holdups, they should reach their destination before it was dark. The roads south of Salt Lake were currently free of snow, for the most part, dirty slush puddles waiting for a good freeze to create a skating rink for anyone unfortunate to be using them. Mitch left off the chains to give them more speed. Apart from a clear trail of muddy paw prints on the main road south out of the city, the hybrids had quickly gone off-road and their tracks and presence now invisible to the travelers. 

The landscape was flat with snow dusting the scrubby ground, mountain ranges in the distance, just visible in the gloom of the early morning. The interstate seventy was in pretty good shape with only a few scattered abandoned vehicles to have to swerve around, some of the dips filled with snow but no trouble for the truck to get through. They would take a break at Palisade, where the mountain plateaus started with Mount Garfield rising out of the plain, stark, and majestic. 

Not once in their trip across Utah after Salt Lake did they see the hybrid mega-pack. Given the exposed and forbidding landscape, it was a migration that would daunt most animals and also an awesome display of Abigail's power over them. 

They stopped on the bridge over the Colorado River with a clear view of Mount Lincoln, now well into the river canyons surrounded by towering rocky bluffs bare of vegetation but dusted in white. They were still too far away to see the barrier itself, hidden behind the rising rocky heights, the road twisting and turning like the river it ran beside. They crossed and recrossed the Colorado in several places and slowly the landscape changed from rocky desert to alpine greenery, pines covering the heights, snow thickly coating the ground, and forming drifts on the road. While the sky remained clear, Mitch would keep the chains in reserve, Jamie trusting him to make that call. 

The trees eventually gave way back to the bare cliffs of snow-covered yellow rock, the road now following the Eagle River and climbing to over six thousand feet above sea level. 

The mountains loomed all around them capped with thick layers of white snow, the Rockies previously the favorite playground of skiers and snowboards, now abandoned to the white mountain goats and snowshoe rabbits. Clouds were starting to obscure the upper heights as the interstate wound among the peaks and valleys, more snow narrowing the road with encroaching drifts and occasional rock falls. 

At Vail, the chains went back on, and Jamie surrendered the driving back to Mitch, her head aching from the concentration needed to keep the truck on the slippery, treacherous road. Multi-storey ski chalets on either side of the highway proclaimed the town's main attraction, the snow showing parts of the hillsides cleared of trees to provide the best downward slopes, that now would never be enjoyed, the chairlifts left behind to rot. 

They were climbing now to where the barrier straddled the highest pass, the construction itself still unseen, the way ahead likely to be the most difficult part they had to negotiate. 

The clouds were finally letting go of their snow, the flakes only light, like mist and not leaving much on the road surface, but from the color of the horizon ahead of them, it was going to get worse. 

An hour later and the barrier had, at long last, come into view. Mitch paused to look at the best approach to the base, a side road appearing to lead up the ridge, an access road for construction crews of the command center. With the chains aiding their grip on the rough road, they crept upwards, the barrier looming large above them. 

The road eventually leveled off, a wide swathe cut through the dense forest leaving a clear area at the base of the wall, a deep field of fire if needed. 

Mitch stared at the snow-covered ground then at the wall itself. They were losing the light with the cloud coming down and the snow getting heavier. If they were going to make a run for it, it would have to be now. 

“We need to be as visible as possible, this wasn't entirely cleared just to give the construction team room to work.”

“Killing field?”

“Something like that. Turn the spots on and hang on.”

Jamie tightened her safety webbing and hung on the handgrip above her head. Mitch turned on the headlights to full beam and started to ease forward over the lumpy ground, the snow swirling around them as the wind picked up after the shelter of the trees. 

The truck bumped over the frozen, churned up dirt, the details of the barrier becoming clearer.

“There's something not right here?” Mitch muttered, peering ahead. “Pass me the binoculars?”

Jamie reached down and pulled them out, passing them over as she tried to make out the barrier in the thickening snowfall. Mitch paused the truck, engine running while he tried to focus on the high wall.

“It's been breached,” he stated, lowering the binoculars and passing them to Jamie who also looked. “Looks like an explosion took out a section of the wall.”

Jamie stared through the lenses, noting the blackened section, a clear gap in the defenses, something moving through it even as she watched.

“I just saw something go through the gap!”

Mitch started the truck forward, Jamie lowering the binoculars and tucking them away once more.

“Probably a Razorback, now we know why they were all headed this way. She told them they could get through the barrier. It won't be long before that mega-pack reach here. We need to find a way through ahead of them.” 

The truck's handling suddenly became smoother, the ground leveled at the base of the wall, allowing them to drive along the dirt road and inspect the barrier up close. They skirted the slope of rubble that allowed access to the compound traveling past the breach for some distance before seeing what looked like a sealed door in the wall. 

Mitch stared at the door for a moment. “You know what was missing?”

Jamie glanced back at the huge hole in the wall. “What made the hole?

“No. Why are there no dead bodies?”

“Oh.”

“Why isn't the ground littered with dead hybrids from the guns supposedly arranged on the wall to mow down anything in that kill zone.”

“They were too surprised by the explosion?”

“Possibly. Unlikely. That hole looks like it exploded from the inside, not the outside. Whoever set the bomb, it was against the inside of the wall.”

“How can you know that?”

“The way the rubble is blasted outward, forming the ramp to allow the hybrids entry into the command center. Without all the rubble to climb up, it would have been near impossible to access it, that high up.”

“Okay. So they infiltrated the command center, set the bomb...then what?”

Mitch turned to look at her. “They opened the door. Like me, they found out about the bombing campaign to come. To save her hybrids she needed to free them to allow them to escape.”

Jamie stared back at him. “I don't suppose there's any way we can close the hole?”

Mitch shook his head. “Not without a shit ton of heavy machinery and not within the time needed.” He pulled on his gloves. “Stay here, I'm going to investigate the door.”

Jamie watched him walk to the wall, the snowfall becoming so heavy it was difficult to see him clearly other than a dark object picked out by the spotlights on the truck roof. He stood still for so long in one spot she was tempted to go and see what he'd found, but snow was now coming down in a thick, white sheet and the truck was warm. Whatever Mitch had found appeared to be the door controls as the uniform grey surface started to recede, a dark maw opening at ground level revealing a tunnel under the wall, large enough to allow a tank to drive through or a large construction digger. Certainly, it was wide enough to allow the truck to enter.

Mitch tramped back to the driver's side and climbed aboard, shaking off thick flakes of snow clinging to his coat and hood.

“Open Sesame,” he intoned, moving the truck forward into the tunnel, the trip not long and bringing them into the formerly secure compound on the other side. As they rolled forward they found a scene of carnage and destruction, smoke rising from the main building, bodies littering the concrete, human and hybrid, the inside of the wall and the ground torn up with bullets, littered with spent cases, improvised firing bases set up around the base of the command center, defending the access doors. The whole area was pockmarked with grenade blast craters, several vehicles just burnt-out shells.

“Do you think there's anybody left?” Jamie asked, subdued by the evidence of a substantial battle between humans and hybrids that took place not that long ago. 

“Let's go and find out.”

They both got out, Mitch immobilizing the truck, just in case a survivor decided they had a better right to it, then tramped through the thickening snowdrifts to the main door, the glass shot out and shattered all over the floor inside the building. Inside, out of the wind, Jamie pushed her fur-lined hood back, leaving on her beanie as she looked around the unlit interior. Mitch was at a security desk at the side, looking over the boards.

“There's still power,” he announced, pressing some buttons and looking up as lights started to flicker on, some broken, but most flaring into life overhead. 

“Lifts?”

“Stairs. This way.” He indicated a door and she moved towards it, casting a look over her shoulder but seeing nothing moving.

They climbed up two flights of stairs then entered the building, finding themselves at a lower floor of the command building, the rooms mostly for accommodation, and a mess hall for the staff. Finding another stairwell, they climbing up another floor and stepped out into the control room itself. Banks of computers were arranged over the floor area, the walls full of monitors both large and huge, all of them blank, the computer banks only showing the occasional blinking standby light, the monitors not active at any of the computer desks. 

Mitch sat down at one of the desks where the computer bank showed a standby light, his fingers moving over the keyboard, the monitor suddenly flickering into life in front of him, another flashing into an image above the station. Jamie moved to stand behind and to the side to get a good view of the screen, Mitch still working the keyboard and bringing up information that scrolled across with multiple windows opening and minimizing.

“Didn't they need a password?” Jamie asked, looking up to see more screens become active, showing a wealth of real-time information.

“Whoever shut this station down didn't get the time to log off, it was only asleep. Just as well as I'd have no idea what the password would be in a place like this.”

“What are you looking for?” Jamie asked, seeing him lean forward, the screen showing subfolders being opened and discarded in quick succession. 

“Security camera logs. Wanna see what happened here.” He moved the mouse to highlight a file and opened it. Choosing the last entry, he clicked on it, the video clip running on one of the bigger screens above their heads. At first, there was no sound, then he clicked to take it off mute. The room suddenly filled with the sounds of battle, gunfire, screams, roars, explosions, Jamie clapping her hands over her ears until Mitch muted the audio to a bearable level. Then they watched the playback - The defense and ultimate defeat of the Boulder Barrier Command Center.


	7. Another Brick in the Wall

The battle had been intense, ferocious, and thankfully brief. The defense forces had played their part and, under the first wave of hybrids, they held their ground, but the breach of the wall was unforeseen and the defenders couldn't stop the agile and motivated hybrids, the compound quickly overrun, the men fighting the flow overcome. The hybrids then fought hard to find a way out of the command center to the world beyond the wall, the decision made by the IADG commander to open an interior gateway to the outside to save the lives of those holed up in the upper levels. After that first wave streamed out into the land so long denied them, they disappeared, those people that survived loading up their undamaged transports and carried their wounded out and away, abandoning the command center to the hybrids. 

“They never stood a chance,” Mitch stated, leaning back in his chair and looking up at Jamie. She rested her hand on his shoulder.

“Did you see who set the bomb?” she asked. 

Mitch sat forward again and started to rewind the footage to the point just before the wall was blown out. He let it run several times, back and forth until he was able to pinpoint a person, unidentifiable on the screen, but clearly bringing a transport truck up to park in front of the wall, the driver jumping out and leaving it there, then shortly after the screen went white as the truck exploded and blew out the wall and its defenses. Afterward, it was chaos and a battle royal, Mitch switching it off, not wanting to watch it all again. 

“A car bomb. No clear image of the driver, but it will be either one of her henchmen, or possibly Abigail herself. Hard to tell.”

Both of them had been so focused on the images playing out on the screen, they hadn't been watching the screen showing the compound in real-time and the influx of Razorbacks into the empty area, finding their way into the building and finally arriving in the control room, as silent as ghosts but far more deadly. 

A low growl was their only warning, Mitch whipping around jumping up, holding up a hand to forestall the leader from pouncing on Jamie. He placed himself in front of her and the lead hybrid paused, still crouched, but no longer bristling, its hackles lowering with each passing second, the pack behind him doing the same. 

“Don't move,” Mitch whispered, lowering his hand and standing tall, his stance confident and in command. The lead hybrid bared its fangs but sat down on its haunches, eyes watching the humans in front of it. It readily accepted Mitch as one of its own, but it was curious and confused by Jamie, the urge to kill all humans competing with the alpha standing in front of it, protecting the prey. 

Mitch could feel the hundreds of hybrids gathering on the wrong side of the wall, prepared to escape into the wide landscape beyond, there to spread out and do what their controller demanded. Shunting that information to the side, he concentrated on the animals in front of him. Projecting an authoritarian demeanor he gave them a simple command – go. The leader of the pack stood up and approached the human hybrid standing in front of the prey, the Razorback coming right up to Mitch and standing almost muzzle to nose, nostrils flaring to draw in the scent and add it to its memory. Mitch didn't move, just raised his head and stared the creature in the eyes, seeing the intelligence in its gaze, the hot waft of its breath on his face. Jamie was clutching his hand, unable to stop shaking from coming so close to the lethal killers. At length the Razorback licked Mitch on the cheek with a long, wet tongue before turning away, the other animals parting to let their leading through, following suit until they were all gone, the room only holding the two humans again. 

Mitch swung around and threw his arms about Jamie, holding her tight against him, her quaking body sagging as she wrapped her arms around him. 

“We're going to be fine,” he whispered into her beanie, clutching her close until she stopped shaking. 

“They're so huge up close,” she whispered back, a quaver in her voice. “I never realized they were so big.”

“Not all of them are like that, just the pack leaders, the alpha's,” Mitch explained. “Guess that makes me an alpha too.”

Jamie snorted. “I was too busy fighting off the one that attacked me, and I was on the ground, so I had no real perspective back at the refugee center.”

Mitch rubbed his hands up and down her back. “They're gone now, how about we see if we can find the communication center. This is all fine, in here, but I need to make a phone call.”

Later, clutching a mug of hot coffee, Jamie watched the local new channel out of Denver, the newsreader, with a screaming breaking news banner running under his image, was reporting the breach of the barrier and the flood of hybrid Razorbacks spreading out through the Rockies and beyond. The reporter was warning anyone in the immediate areas east to hole up and find a secure place to ride out the megapack heading their way. Now the creatures were out, the only hope of surviving was for people to barricade themselves in their basements or storm shelters and listen to the radio until they got the all-clear that the Razorbacks were past and it was safe to come out again. 

Mitch re-entered the command center, looking grim. Jamie pointed to the screen. 

“The news is spreading your warning to the people in Denver and surrounds. It will save a lot of lives.”

Mitch pulled over a chair and took the mug she held out for him. “That was the general idea. I've contacted not only the local stations but several further out. If they know what's coming they have a chance.” He sipped the fragrant brew, eyebrows rising at its quality. “Did you find a secret stash? This is very nice.”

“Had to look a little harder, but the canteen wasn't big and this was in the cupboard, so I figured from the label it was something special.”

“Hmm, might have to help myself to what's left. Would hate to leave this behind to be wasted.” He grinned at her over the rim of his mug and took another sip. 

They watched the news cycle for a while until it started to repeat, then Mitch switched it off. “We need to get underway if we're going to get ahead of this new wave.”

Jamie put her mug aside and crossed her arms over her chest. “So where to now? Surely this will halt the plans to drop a bomb on the west coast?”

Mitch shook his head. “This will only fire them up, give them the argument that it is needed more than ever to thin the number of hybrids able to cross through the barrier. I think it's too late now anyway, even if they were to bomb those still up and down the coast, the cork is out of the bottle. I'm more invested in finding Abigail and shutting her down, end this control she has over the hybrids, stop her manipulation of their minds.”

“Do you have any idea where she might be?” Jamie asked, frowning. 

“Not a clue. But if she is responsible for this outbreak of her pets, then it's reasonable to assume she is somewhere on this continent to keep a close watch on their progress and move them to where she wants them.”

“Like chess pieces?”

“Exactly like chess pieces. Ironic that I wouldn't have known any of this if I hadn't been infected and turned into one of them.”

“And Jackson,” Jamie added. “If you teamed up with him again, would you be able to make a difference?”

“Possibly. Hard to tell. I'll think about getting in touch with my old team if we have any problems turning this to our advantage.” Mitch rubbed at his chin, feeling the scrape of bristles against his thumb. “There's also another reason I will need to get hold of Abe.”

Jamie raised her eyebrows silently asking why.

Mitch let out a gusty breath. “My daughter might be alive after all.”

_ ** Ann Arbor, Michigan ** _

“Abe, it's me.”

“Rafiki. I was expecting you to call earlier.”

“Yeah. I meant to ring and fill you in, but things have got a little complicated. We're on the road at the moment and should be with you in about five hours. I have Clementine and Sam Parker with me.”

“She is alive after all!”

“Yes, Abe. And there's more. She's due any day.”

There was a short silence on the end of the line. “Abe?”

“Sorry, I was just processing what you said. Should we be even talking about this?”

“My line is scrambled, so if anyone is listening in they'll only get static.”

“I still think we should not speak of this...event over an open line. I will make some necessary preparations, otherwise, I will see you all in five hours.”

“Will do.”

Abe heard a vehicle pull up to the house. The sun had already set and he didn't put on the outside lights. The house was reasonably secluded, but he wasn't about to take any chances. Opening the front door he stood framed in the light from the hallway behind him. 

“Abe?” Jackson's voice called to him out of the darkness and he grinned.

“Welcome home, Rafiki.” His friend appeared out of the gloom and ushered two younger people inside, his partner Tessa bringing up the rear.

He shut the door behind Tessa then turned to survey the newcomers. The young woman was statuesque and blond, the young man dark-skinned and wary. 

“Welcome to my house, you are safe here. Please go through.” Abe indicated the large living room, Dariela appearing at the top of the stairs, their golden retriever, Pizza, at her knee, his tail wagging. 

The young man chivvied the young woman towards a sofa and helped her sit down. As Jackson quite rightly described, the young woman looked as if she was about to deliver any moment. Both of them were eyeing Abe and Dariela warily, Pizza pushing into the room and going over to inspect the visitors, his tail still wagging.

Jackson, Abe, and Dariela remained standing, looking down at the miracle presented to them. 

“It is a long time since I saw you last, Clementine,” Abe commented, smiling. “You have been living with your grandfather?”

“Not recently,” Clem responded, casting a glance at her partner. “Sam and I have been traveling a fair bit. But now...” she indicated her swollen belly. “I saw Jackson's alias appear in the role of refugee's, so I've been tracking him to make contact. It was pure luck that he came to D.C and Sam was able to meet with him.” She looked worriedly at Tessa.

“You knew my alias?” Jackson queried. He looked at his partner, Tessa, who only shrugged and raised an eyebrow and addressed Clementine. 

“You're doing better than me. I only found out about his 'alias'...” she used her fingers to do air quotes. “Just before we were forced to take the last flight out of the refugee center. Before that, he was simply Dylan Greene.”

Jackson looked embarrassed. “Yeah, well I couldn't risk it if anyone happened to recognize me beyond the barrier. She had to know.”

“Damn right I did!” Tessa fired back, obviously not at all happy about his deception. “I should have walked away at once.”

Jackson sent her a crooked smile. “But you didn't...”

She smiled back. “No, I didn't. I've grown accustomed to having you around.”

Abe sat down beside Clementine on the couch. “How far along are you?”

Clem rested her hand on her bump. “Not entirely sure. It came as a bit of a surprise, so I only have an approximate timeline.”

“Did Jackson tell you I am fully qualified to deliver your baby?”

Clem nodded. “I'd looked into what you and Dariela had done since I last saw you and that if anyone could help, you could and would, If only for my Dad's sake.”

Abe took her hand in his broad one. “Of course, but I would also do this for your own sake, Clementine. This is a wondrous situation, one of hope for the human race...”

“I'll not have you experiment on her!” Sam jumped up, his eyes blazing and his expression fierce. “We didn't come here to have our baby used as a lab rat!”

Abe looked up at him, still holding Clem's hand. “There is no way that anyone in this room would condone or initiate any harm to this child, or the child's mother. In the name of your father who gave his life to make sure you lived, we all pledge the same.” He looked directly into Clementine's worried eyes. “ No harm will come to you or your child.”

Clem smiled, her gaze relaxing. “Thank you. My father trusted you all to carry out his last wishes, and I do too.”

Dariela spoke up for the first time. “I have a room ready if you'd like to put your feet up and get some rest?”

“If I could use the bathroom first?” Clem replied, looking embarrassed.

“Not a problem, we have a second bathroom on the ground floor so you don't even have to climb a single stair.” Dariela reached down to help Clem off the couch, exchanging a glance with her husband before the two women made their slow way out of the room. Sam watched them both until they were gone, then slumped back on the couch cushions, clearly exhausted. 

Jackson got up. “I'll go empty the car of our gear.”

Abe had got up as well and had his back to Sam, only Tessa seeing the fleeting expression of hatred cross the young man's face before he blanked his expression when Abe turned around. Keeping her face bland, Tessa gestured to where Jackson had gone.

“I'll go give him a hand, back in a tick.” She smiled at Abe and Sam, hurrying after her partner to give him a heads up.

“He did what?”

“If a look could kill, you'd be stone cold.”

Jackson stared at Tessa in the gloom, his hand wrapped around the grip of one of the bags in the trunk. “You must have...”

“Don't tell me what I saw, Dylan...Jackson. When he thought no one was looking he shot you such a look of venom I was shocked. If I had to make a guess, there is some shared history between you.”

“I never met the guy until D.C. You think he could be another byblow of my father?”

Tessa shook her head. “No. Too young. Maybe he was affected by something the team did all those years ago?”

Jackson hoisted another bag out. “Possibly, but how the hell would I know? So many people were affected in all sorts of ways during the animal pandemic. Maybe he lost his parents in an animal attack and blames me, for some reason.”

“Well, watch your back.”

Jackson grinned. “I thought I had you to do that?”

Tessa gave a snort and carried the bags into the house, Jackson on her heels. 

Once Clementine was settled in the guest bedroom on the ground floor, Abe went in and gave her a brief exam – blood pressure, heartbeat, etc.

He helped her arrange the pillows to support her belly and allow her to sleep. Another bed was made up on the floor for Sam to share the room with her. Clem watched the large man move about the bed, writing notes in his book as he took a new reading.

“Everything okay?” she asked. Abe looked up and beamed. 

“All the readings are looking fine. Ankles are a little puffy but that's to be expected. Your child is perfectly healthy, his little heart beating beautifully.”

“He?” Clem smiled. Abe grinned. “I'm biased.” He started to pack up his medical kit.

“Dad would have hated being a grandpa.”

Abe turned to look at her. “He would have been thrilled. Mitch cared for you deeply, Clementine.”

She smiled wistfully. “I know, I just wish he was here now.”

Abe nodded. “We all do.” He closed his medical bag and straightened up. “Now get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning.” He made to leave.

“Thank you, Abraham.”

“I'll send your young man into you.”

Clem watched him leave and settled against the pillows heaped around her, letting them take the weight of her body and relieve the pressure on her joints. Sam appeared soon after and they shared a smile. 

“Sorry you have to sleep on the floor,” Clem said, her eyes already starting to close.

“Don't worry about it, I've slept on worse,” Sam muttered. He sat down on the bedding and watched Clem drift off to sleep, his hands going up to fiddle with the ring hanging on a chain about his neck. He'd try and contact Abigail tomorrow and bring her up to date as to how the plan was working out. His natural father had no idea who he was or their connection, which suited him fine. Sam didn't think of Jackson Oz as his father in any shape or form, he was just the killer of the only two people he, Sam Parker, called his parents, lost on the island off the coast of South America ten years ago. Now, thanks to help from his friend, he would soon have a chance to avenge his parents and all the friends who died on Pangaea. With that thought to warm him, he closed his eyes and let sleep wash over him. 

Jackson sat with his arm around Tessa, the two of them watching the flames in the fireplace, side by side on the couch, the only light coming from the flicker of the fire. 

Abe and Dariela appeared, Abe carrying a tray with mugs and a plate of cookies. He set it down on the coffee table, seating himself next to Tessa, squeezing the couple closer together, Tessa laughing and Jackson protesting he was being squashed. 

Dariela sat opposite and sipped her mug. “Did you hear the news?” she asked, directing her question at Jackson. 

“About the hybrids breaking through the barrier? Yes. It was on the gas station television when I stopped to fill up. Didn't say much, just issued a warning and to hunker down, bit like a tornado warning.”

Abe snorted, lifting his mug to take a drink. “It wasn't reported through official channels, as far as I can tell. The command center was evacuated. They were as surprised as anyone when the news broke.”

“Well, someone must have been at the center, they sent footage as proof of their story.”

“Yeah. Either they didn't evacuate everyone, or someone else was on site.”

Dariela reached for one of the cookies. “What does it matter? The hybrids are out of their enclosure and spreading eastward. Do you think they are deliberately herding the population to the east coast?”

Abe answered her. “It is a possibility. If we suppose that the purpose of the hybrids is to drive the human race to the edge of extinction, then yes, that would make sense. Can you sense if that is their reason for doing this?” He looked at Jackson who lifted his arm from behind Tessa to allow him to lean forward. 

“I can't say for sure. I get the impression that something is driving them, goading them to spread out and keep heading east, but I get the feeling it's not what they want to do, or at least they are anxious about it.”

Tessa looked at him askance. “Anxious? They're rabid killers!”

“Yes, I know, but they are also animals, and this level of pack behavior is not natural to them, or the base species they're hybridized with. I get the impression it's like orders they can't ignore, but it goes against their nature to obey at the same time.”

“Can you control them, like your lions?” Dariela asked. 

“No. Not like that, but they wouldn't kill me if we came in to contact with them.” Jackson looked at his friends. “But that only applies to me, the rest of you are fair game.”

“Which is why this house is fortified,” said Abe, gesturing to the windows and their substantial metal security screens.

There was a pause then Tessa spoke up. “We may have another problem.” She glanced at Jackson, who rolled his eyes.

“Okay, well Tess thinks that Sam is not who he says he is. Apparently, he looked at me funny and now she's spooked.” 

Tessa punched him hard on the arm. “That's for dismissing me, you jerk. I didn't imagine his look, he meant to do you harm if he could and not get caught.”

“Tessa is right to be cautious, although he seems genuinely fond of Clem,” Abe observed, putting his empty mug on the tray and looking longingly at the nearly depleted cookie plate.

Dariela swatted his hand away. “Do we know how they met or anything about him?” 

“Not really, he wasn't very chatty on the drive up here,” Tessa told them. 

“I am curious how he knew who I was and how I happened to be there at exactly the right time and place,” said Jackson, frowning.

“We may have to put the young man to the question, but not now. Clem needs him near her and until her child is born she doesn't need any extra stress or upset,” Abe cautioned, everyone nodding in agreement. Tessa looked thoughtful.

“Would this Abigail need to be close to direct her hybrids? Or could she do it from, say, another continent?”

Abe raised his eyebrows. “That is a very good question. Jackson?”

“I never really tested my limits. Obviously the closer the better, for the most part, and she is having to control a great many of her pets over a very large area. I would personally expect her to be somewhere on American soil, on this continent to have any real control over the hybrids.”

“What do you have in mind?” Dariela asked, looking at her husband.

“We try and track the animals, see if they show a distinct pattern of migration. We know their starting point, so, like a dog herding sheep, they will adopt a pattern to include as much of the population as possible and keep them within a certain distance to keep them heading to the east.” Abe explained. Tessa took it up when he paused.

“So, it would make sense that Abigail would place herself at the center of that arc, to keep the tightest control on their direction, and just keep moving east as they got closer.”

“Exactly!” said Abe, holding his meaty hand up for Tess to high-five.

Jackson jumped in. “They already have something like that as part of the IADG monitoring array. If we could get access it will give us up to date information on the hybrids movements across the country.”

“You're suggesting we make contact with whoever is head of the IADG and put the idea to them?” Dariela asked.

“I do,” said her husband. “And sooner rather than later. Once they get into formation, they will start their drive to push everyone east.”

Jackson nodded. “You'll understand if I don't join you in those talks?”

“Not at all, Rafiki. I think this is a situation we will leave to our ladies to undertake.” Abe looked at Dariela and Tessa, both women sharing a look before nodding. 

“That is sorted then. I stay here and deliver Clementine's miracle baby, you keep an eye on Sam and try and figure him out, Dariela and Tessa visit the IADG and get them to co-operate and we all save the world for a second time.”

“All we're missing is Mitch to come up with the formula to reverse sterility and the world is put to rights once more.” Dariela has spoken softly, her friends all taking a somber moment to remember the man who had given his life for them all.


	8. Search Patterns

Mitch was in the command center, looking at the different maps and real-time information being updated every minute, showing the spread of the hybrid packs across the foothills of the Rockies, spreading outwards from Denver, heading north, south, and east as if they were trying to cover as much ground as possible and round up all the humans that fell within their capture zone. Those they didn't kill, at least. It dawned on him a few minutes later that the hybrids were acting like herding dogs, driving the sheep in a particular direction, in this case towards the east coast of the continent.

If he was Abigail where would she be? Probably at the center of the web, directing her troops, making sure they pushed what was left of the American populace completely off the continent. She couldn't be too far from them, her pets, otherwise they'd lose contact being so many spread over such a wide area. She might be part hybrid but she still had her limits. So that would put her somewhere in the middle of the United States, at least until they came closer enough for her to retreat to the east and draw them onwards to the coast. He stared at the readout showing the actual spread of the hybrids, their distinctive signature being picked up by a satellite and relayed to a multitude of monitoring stations across the country. Those analyzing the information would soon come to the same conclusions and start looking for Abigail somewhere in the middle, maybe Iowa, or Arkansas, or Missouri. It was still a large area to cover, and she would move once her mega-pack got near, so they didn't have a lot of time.

He looked at another screen that showed where another problem was making itself known, the release of a variety of different hybrids from the ones already known, some reports pinpointing them to a time-release from a central nest or something similar. They were there listed with dates of their appearance, suggesting they were being set off in sequence, the first appearing in Missouri, near the border with Iowa, a small breakout of hitherto unknown species that escaped into the countryside and waterways before the police and armed forces could stop them. He traced the subsequent nest to the last one, only a few days ago and about the time the command center was attacked. It had spawned south of Little Rock, Arkansas, which indicated that Abigail was likely in that area, overseeing the release of her babies into the wild, causing panic among the people, further driving them east. He checked the daily news and the reports seemed to confirm his hypothesis. The bulk of those that had survived the animal pandemic, were now being forced to abandon their homes and evacuate the western half of America and run for shelter on the east coast. 

Abigail had effectively cut them off from running south and west, and the hybrid mega-pack would soon cut off escape to the north. In a matter of months, she would have the entire continent to just her and her pets. 

Sitting back in his chair he stared and the screen, his expression grim. 

When Jamie entered the room and its multiplex of screens all showing a different display she wandered over to where Mitch sat, still deep in contemplation. 

“Care to catch me up?” she asked, pointing at the screens. 

“We need to leave.”

“Okay. And go where?”

“Arkansas.” He told her. “We need to get to Arkansas as soon as possible before Abigail moves on.”

Jamie nodded. “And the rest of the team?”

Mitch swiveled in his chair to face her. “They'll just have to catch up. We have to stop her.” He got up to leave but Jamie caught at his arm. 

“What about your daughter? What about Clementine?” She saw a muscle in his cheek twitch. 

Mitch sent her a quick glance, then looked away. “Now I know she might be alive, that's the first thing I'll do when we've dealt with Abigail.”

They decamped that afternoon, expecting to travel through the night if necessary. The snowstorm had abated overnight and Mitch had used the time to check over the truck, looking for any weakness that could delay them. 

In current conditions, they were at least a day and a half of constant driving away from the southern state, even before they started to search for their quarry while she remained west of the Mississippi.

Mitch took the first shift driving, too fired up with all the information he had crammed into his head. Leaving the barrier command center behind them they followed the still discernible tracks of the fleeing vehicles leaving the barrier and heading east towards the foothills and Denver. Jamie had sourced an up to date GPS and they planned to take a series of minor roads to meet up again with their favorite interstate seventy to take them in a relatively straight route to Arkansas. Jamie had also taken the time to boost their armory, augmenting their firepower choices with a couple of dart guns and their assorted tranquilizers – for both human and animal targets. 

As they reached the lower levels, the snowy roads started to clear and they stopped briefly to remove the chains to give them greater speed through the outlying roads skirting the city center. They saw little evidence of the hybrid mega-pack, Mitch banking on them needing to spread south and north before turning to the east and starting their harassment of the population to drive them in the same direction, as Abigail intended. He was in a hurry to thwart the woman's plan before too many lives were lost in her bid to depopulate the United States and take over the continent for her hybrid swarms. 

Certainly, the people of Denver had heeded the news feeds and were not in evidence on the streets of the sprawling city. There were some tracks of vehicles in the plowed streets, but nothing to indicate foot traffic or animal incursions. 

When they cleared the suburbs, they joined up with the interstate at Limon and started on their race across the south-western states. Thick fog slowed them as the landscape flattened out and the mountains disappeared from view. Without the risk of hitting another vehicle, they made good time despite the extreme weather conditions, crossing into Kansas with all their lights blazing to pierce the blanketing haze. Four hours were gone, the sun starting to fade into the evening and Mitch was ready to hand over to Jamie to drive, Mitch handing her drinks and food as she settled into the straights of the seventy, approaching the end of their time on the interstate at Selina to turn true south and race towards the crossing of two more state border – Oklahoma and Arkansas. This second leg would take them four hours to reach Tulsa and their last stop before Mitch took over again when passing into Arkansas proper. Until then he settled down to nap while Jamie drove them onward, eating up the miles in the empty blackness around them. She left the one-thirty-five to bypass Wichita and traveled the rougher, rural roads following the path laid out for her by the GPS, the route taking a wide eastern arc to keep to the heading but avoiding any major towns. Mitch slept through all the jolting only starting awake when Jamie pulled over to relieve her bladder. 

“Where are we?” he asked, his words slurred and sleepy. 

“At the intersection of fifty-one and forty-eight.” Jamie squinted at the route on the small screen. “Near the Munnford Reservoir. Be back in a bit, gotta pee.” She climbed out and shut the door, squatting down beside the truck, the headlights illuminating a wide swathe of the surrounding road and fields. There was little enough to see, the scrubby trees growing close to the road, but with little leaf, the rest of the road showing nothing but a canted letterbox with its door open and its flag up. Her business done, she made to climb back up into the driver's seat but Mitch was already adjusting the seat. 

“Hop in, I'll drive.” When she didn't move he waved her away. “I'm awake now, so your turn for some shut-eye.”

Jamie climbed into the passenger side, had her bum barely on the seat when something grabbed her from behind. With a shriek she was pulled back out onto the road, a rubbery arm tightening about her middle. She hit the road hard, knocking the breath out of her, when it returned she screamed and beat at the tentacle, another finding and wrapping around her arm, another immobilizing a leg. By the time Mitch had left his side of the truck, Jamie was being dragged back towards the roadside drain, invisible in the dark, but currently full of dirty water. Unable to fight the tentacled monster she tried to bite it, but the skin was too tough. Mitch was shouting something and she tried to listen, whatever was dragging her starting to go down an incline and splashing into the water.

“Take a deep breath!” Mitch was frantically telling her, seeing the water and knowing what was to happen next. Jamie finally heard him and gulped in air again and again to oxygenate her blood. One more and the water was closing over her head, deadening her ears, and blinding her sight. The creature was moving fast now, Jamie reaching out to snag anything to slow it down. She didn't know what Mitch could do, but she'd hang on for as long as possible. Her hand felt a thick branch and she grabbed at it, making the creature holding her stop suddenly, Jamie kicking her feet to make noise and alert Mitch to where she was. It seemed like hours but was only seconds before the rubbery tentacles let go of her, her arms flailing as she tried to right herself and reach the surface. The drain wasn't deep but she couldn't seem to get her feet under her and she thrashed just under the surface. A hand found her jacket and pulled, her head breaking the water a second later, Jamie gasping and coughing as she flopped onto the bank, her body convulsing while she expelled water from her lungs and stomach. She opened her eyes but could only see black, for a moment thinking herself blind after all, panic starting to kick in, but then she saw a torchlight bobbing down the road, the figure of Mitch running towards her with something in his arms. She lay limp on the sodden bank as he crouched down to wrap her in a blanket, wiping off the mud on her face as she heaved again. When her heart started to slow, she blinked and peered around, the torch pointing down to the road drain, revealing what had grabbed her. 

“Is...is that...an...octopus?” her voice was weak but still incredulous. 

Mitch played the torchlight over the pale, corpse-colored hybrid, its size many times that of an ordinary octopus that lived, usually, in the sea.

“How the...” Jamie coughed and brought up more water. “How the hell did that get here?”

“This area is covered in ponds, ditches, streams and not far away is the Keystone Lake. Possibly Abigail activated one of her nests nearby and this was one of those released. “

“Is it dead?”

“Nope. Couldn't risk shooting you, so used the tranqs.”

“Ugh.” She spat on the ground. “Get me the hell away from it.”

Mitch helped get her on her feet and they staggered back to the truck. Mitch opened up the back and Jamie started to peel off her sodden clothing, her teeth chattering as she stripped in the night air. Mitch quickly rubbed her down, wrapping her in a sleeping bag before picking her up and depositing her into the passenger seat and out of the cold. Dumping the wet gear into a plastic sack, he got his sampling kit and went back to the hybrid in the ditch. He was back before Jamie noticed he'd gone, her teeth no longer chattering as the down sleeping bag warmed her up. 

Mitch climbed into the driver's seat and got the engine going, turning up the heater and pointing all the vents at Jamie to dry her out. He pulled the single seat belt across her chest and lap, keeping her snug, then started the truck forward, leaving behind a drugged octopus missing half a tentacle and its intended prey. 

_ ** Chicago, Illinois ** _

Dariela sat impatiently staring out the window, her booted foot tapping on the tiled floor. Beside her, Tessa watched the comings and goings of the staff, some of them glancing at the visitors, others studiously ignoring them. Tessa was aware the glances were not aimed at her, but at the woman sitting next to her, one of the original team from ten years ago that saved the animals, but not the world. That was not the only claim to fame, Dariela was also one of the few women to be pregnant at the time, so her son was one of the last born ten years ago. That they had been granted an interview with the head of the IADG so quickly was proof of Dariela Kenyatta's fame, or some would say notoriety. 

The tap of heels in their direction pulled her attention to a woman approaching them. 

“Mrs. Kenyatta, Miss Williams, if you will follow me. IADG agent Garrison will see you now.”

The two women trotted after the aide to an office, entering a large, well-appointed suite, a table with several people around it all looking towards the newcomers, the aide leaving them and shutting the door behind her. 

A tall, distinguished elder man stepped forward. 

“Agent Henry Garrison,” he announced, holding out a hand to shake both their hands. “Please, come and sit.”

Dariela sent Tessa a look, then took the seat indicated, looking around the table at the others there. “We were hoping to have an interview one-on-one.”

“Given what is happening and the co-incidence of you wanting an interview was too convenient for this to be only in-house. Why are you here Mrs. Kenyatta?”

“Dariela. I'm here because we need access to data you may have to track Abigail Westbrooke.”

Looks were exchanged with everyone around the table. Garrison spoke again. “What sort of data?”

“The Razorbacks are being controlled by Abigail. She is using them to round up the human population east of the barrier and drive them all the way to the east coast. We...I need to know what you have on them regarding the spread of their mega-pack.”

Garrison laced his fingers on the tabletop. “And even supposing we had that sort of information, how would it help you?”

“We assume that Abigail will instruct them to form an encircling manoeuver, like dogs herding sheep, and to do that she will likely be at the epicenter of that semi-circle to keep her control over so many animals. If we know the spread, we can pinpoint her locations...roughly.”

“Ingenious.” Garrison looked at the different people around the table. “I think that qualifies as a good enough reason to allow you access. We've downloaded most of our intel from the Boulder command center, plus we have satellite and radar, also on ground observations to give the kind of information you need. Please, follow me.”

Garrison stood and led the way out of a different door into another long corridor, leaving behind the people who'd been at the table. Dariela followed, striding behind Garrison with confidence, while Tessa tried to keep track of where they were going in relation to the building layout. If the mission went tits up, she wanted to know how to get out again.

_ ** Ann Arbor, Michigan ** _

“That's fantastic news, Dariela. Abe couldn't come to the phone, he's upstairs with...well...you know who doing you know what.”

“Understood. Then it will be just you?”

“Looks like it. Are you staying there?”

“Yes. I'll be coordinating and directing from the IADG base. Garrison is sending a team in as well, so be careful. I'll send you the location and update you if it changes. Good luck.”

“Thanks, Dariela, you too.”

Jackson ended the call, another pain-filled scream rending the air from the bedroom down the hallway. Clementine had been in labor for several hours, Sam waking Abe when the contractions had started coming close together. Now she was near to giving birth, Sam at her head, Abe taking care of business at the other end. Jackson loitered at the door, looking for the moment to update Abe, but Clem's scream sent him hurrying away to start packing in readiness to leave whether the child arrived or not. 

“Push, Clementine, your baby is nearly here. I can see the head.” 

Sam winced as the mother of his child gripped his hand, white-knuckled, her teeth bared as she bore down, her baby suddenly slipping from her body into Abe's capable hands, Clem instantly relaxing back on the bed, her job for the moment done. Sam peered down at the end of the bed but the sheet hid what Abe was doing. 

“Is it alright?”

Abe grinned at the anxious father and gestured him forward. “Come and cut the cord of your son.”

Sam extracted his crushed fingers and went to stand by Abe who was holding out the surgical scissors for Sam to take. A simple snip and the baby was separated from his mother, letting out a weak wail, the lined face red with the effort of being born. 

“I have a son...” Sam breathed. He turned back to Clem who was smiling tiredly from the head of the bed. “Clem, we have a son!”

Abe appeared with the swaddled infant and approached Clem, handing her the child. “Congratulations, Clementine, you have a beautiful boy.”

Clem folded her arms around the bundle while Abe went back to finish delivering the afterbirth and tidy her up. Sam moved back to the head of the bed the better to admire the new life he'd helped create. 

Jackson stood in the doorway wiping his eyes, remembering the day his own son, now dead, had been born so many years ago, so long in fact he considered it another life altogether. 

“Abe?”

His friend looked up from the bed, bundling up the soiled sheets and clothes. “That was Dariela?”

“Yeah. I have to go...now.”

“As you should, Rafiki. I will stay and protect, here.”

Jackson smiled. “You do good work. Dr. Kenyatta.” He glanced at the new parents once more then turned to leave. 

“Good luck, my friend. Good hunting.” Abe called after him.

_ ** Little Rock, Arkansas ** _

Daylight crept over the landscape like a pale sheet, mist lingering in the hollows, water glinting in every depression large and small. 

Mitch tooled the truck through the outer suburbs, battling to keep his mind on the road and alert to any threat. Abigail was near, he could hear her siren call and it was becoming stronger. At his side, Jamie was all but invisible inside her sleeping bag cocoon, exhausted from her stint driving and then her battle with the hybrid octopus. He would have to wake her soon to take over the wheel, his ability to concentrate becoming more and more compromised the further south he went. 

The roads around Little Rock were, like most places, empty and silent, the early morning light casting a pall over the houses, the ground everywhere showing evidence of the recent flooding.

A shopping center was coming up on the left so he slowly drove the truck around the back of the buildings to the service lane, there to conceal them for a short time.

“Jamie?” He shook her shoulder to wake her.

“Go away. It's too early.”

He smiled at her grousing, giving her another shake. “Time to get dressed, we're close.”

For a moment there was no reaction, then she sat up, undoing the seat belt and hugging the sleeping bag to her chest with one hand while she pushed back her tangled hair with the other. “I'm awake. Where are we?”

“Little Rock.” He told her, turning to exit the truck and open the back door. “You need to get dressed and we need to prepare for the day.”

Jamie caught the dry clothes he tossed to the front of the truck, the smell of the wet clothes from earlier lessening when Mitch hauled the bag out of the truck to dump beside a row of bins against a concrete wall. She longed to wash her hair but satisfied herself with brushing out the snarls and twisting it up to sit under a fresh beanie. Dressed, she bundled up the sleeping bag and tossed it behind her seat. Mitch was pulling out items to make them breakfast, his forehead furrowed as he fought the pull of Abigail's siren call. This close it was a struggle to resist it and he wondered if she would be able to control him if he got too close. 

“Mitch? What's the matter?” Jamie appeared next to him and he flinched, not having noticed her approach. He touched his temple with one finger.

“My spidey sense is on overload. Abigail is not far from here but she's broadcasting at full volume and I'm having difficulty concentrating.”

Jamie nodded. “Will you be able to direct us to where she is?”

“Oh, yeah. No problem. I'm just not sure how effective I'll be if I get too close.”

“That's why I'm here. You point, I'll shoot.”

They hurried through their meal, packing up the truck, and this time Jamie took the wheel. They now had their weapons to hand for easy access in the cab, Mitch wearing a permanent scowl as he tried to filter out enough of Abigail's signal to judge her direction. 

_ ** Chicago, Illinois, IADG offices ** _

Dariela started at the screen that displayed the flight time of the search team taking a helicopter to Arkansas. They had taken off only an hour earlier with still another three and a half hours just to get into the state. Baring mishaps the helicopter would land somewhere outside Little Rock and start their search from there. They had contacted the local air force base just north of Little Rock, but most of the personnel had already evacuated along with the population, leaving only one officer to liaise with regarding the team's arrival. The man was able to supply little information other than weather conditions and pass on contacts at the other military bases around the states' capital, including the national guard and Camp Robinson. 

Until the team was on the ground, there was little they could do except count down the hours. 

_ ** On the Road to Indianapolis, Indiana ** _

Jackson was only four hours into his road trip but he could feel the signal pulsing in his head, drawing him south. He knew the IADG team would be on the ground soon, but they were working blind without a way to pinpoint where Abigail was hiding. He at least had a way to know when he was close, the pull of her too strong for him to resist. His hands were white-knuckled on the steering wheel, the pulse in his head like a direction finder. If the road veered off to the east or west the pulse lessened, if his course returned to pure south, the pulse got stronger. He had expected something like his connection with the lions, but this far exceeded that experience. It shocked him how much it did affect him, making him wonder if he was more hybrid now than human. It only made him more determined to find and kill Abigail, not only to shut her down and end her control of the Razorbacks, but to avenge Chloe's death and Mitch's, plus his fathers along with the countless others she was responsible for in her insane quest to take over the world and refashion it in her image and those of her creations.

_ ** South of Little Rock, Arkansas ** _

Jamie drove the truck slowly down the county road, glancing over at Mitch every few seconds to see if he changed the direction he wanted her to go. He knew they were close, but was having trouble pinpointing the source.

Overhead, circling in the lowering clouds were a flock of birds many times larger than anything the local species could produce. The day was not getting any lighter, the leaden clouds threatening more rain to soak the already sodden ground.

“Slow down,” Mitch groaned, his hands clutching at his head, eyes squeezed tight shut behind his glasses. Jamie did as he asked, seeing a sign up ahead as they passed a large church on the left. 

“She's over there,” Mitch gasped, his shaking finger pointing to the right. Jamie took the road to the right and slowly crunched over the fallen leaves and twigs littering the side road. 

“Mitch, this is a dead-end. Sign back there said Granite Mountain quarry.”

“She's close, keep going.”

The road was narrow and soon she could see heaps of gravel in the paddocks on either side, padlocked metal beam gates blocking some driveways, all signage proclaiming it private property. Now, on the right, there were huge heaps of different grade grit and gravel with long loading gantries above and abandoned trucks below.

“We're at the quarry,” Jamie told him, slowing down further so they were now only creeping along the access road. “I can see a train and rail cars parked behind one of the piles. Mitch, we've reached the end of the road.”

The entrance to the quarry offices was in front of her, the road now covered in windblown sand and grit, obscuring the road markings and the road itself. 

“She's somewhere in the quarry,” Mitch whispered, his breath hissing between his clenched teeth. “I can't...it's too strong.” He started to pant in earnest, his head falling back against the headrest. 

Jamie bit her lip, not sure what to do. Even as she sat in the truck, the engine idling, she saw a figure walking down the dusty road towards them. The former breeze had picked up creating a dust storm around the truck, grit hitting the windscreen with a rattle, Jamie barely able to make out the figure still walking towards them, seemingly untouched by the whirlwind.

“Mitch? I think she's here.” Jamie put out her left hand to clutch Mitch's shoulder, but he was unconscious, chin resting on his chest.

“Mitch!?” Jamie shook him but he didn't respond, another figure joining the first, this one towering over the other, with broad shoulders and a strange gait, as if he was walking on his knuckles. Unable to see through the dust storm whipping around the truck, Jamie could only sit and watch as the two figures came closer.

_ ** Airforce Base north of Little Rock, Arkansas ** _

The helicopter set down and the team piled out, unloading their equipment as an army truck approached to pick them and their gear up. Rain was just starting to fall and they got into the vehicle as quickly as possible. 

“Captain?” the driver saluted. 

“Lieutenant.”

“I'm instructed to drive you wherever you need to be, sir.”

“Do you know the area well?”

“Pretty much, sir. What are you looking for?”

“A woman. Our intel says she's somewhere south of the city, but that's all. Can you tell me what's there?”

“Not much. It's pretty much rural with some houses, churches, the usual stuff.”

“Anywhere unusual?” the team leader asked. 

“Um... a pretty big quarry off county road three-eight-five. Sir.”

“Anything else of note?”

“A prison, but that was evacuated some time ago.Sir.”

“Any unusual traffic in the area?”

“Just a single SUV, arrived earlier this morning. Kept to the county roads, mostly. Skirted the city entirely. We stopped keeping tabs via satellite when it headed south...”

“Yeah. Take us to where you last saw that vehicle.”

“Yes, Sir.”

_ ** Granite Mountain Quarry. ** _

“Well, well, well. So you didn't die after all. Where have you been hiding yourself, Mitch?”

“As far from you as possible, Abigail.” Mitch glared at the woman standing in front of him. He'd come to, finding himself tied to a chair, hands bound behind him, feet tied to the legs, immobilizing him. The crippling pain in his head had gone, his mind clear of the interference.

He looked around the room, a warehouse of sorts, with pallets loaded with sacks, packed six high and wrapped in plastic. The floor was dusty and the roof rose high above his head. An enormous sliding door looked out to the yard beyond where mountains of sand, grit, and gravel rose several storey's high, towering over the warehouse. 

“Cosy. Where's Jamie?”

Abigail laughed, not answering him, instead pulling over another chair and setting it down in front of him, out of touching distance, but close enough. She turned it around and straddled the seat, her arms resting on the back.

“Is that her name? A fierce little thing. I had to get Abendegos to subdue her in the end, she was going to hurt herself.”

Mitch ignored the mock sympathy. “Let her go and I'll stay. You can put whatever crap you like in my brain, but you have to let her go.”

“Ah, Mitch. Making deals you don't intend to keep, all to save this...Jamie.” Abigail smiled, the display of teeth almost feral. “Does she know how much of you belongs to me now?”

“You're delusional!” he spat, his lip curling. “Go fuck yourself.”

Abigail let her smile slip for a moment, her eyes suddenly very intent and entirely focused on him. In response, Mitch cried out, searing pain spearing through his head leaving him gasping. After a second or two she released him. “Tut, tut, Mitch. Never did know when to behave. You're so much of a hybrid I can control you with a single thought. Isn't this fun?”

In a side room, Jamie stared at the creature squatting on its haunches a few feet from where she had wedged herself into a corner, knees up against her chest, her arms hugging them close. Apart from the creature, that looked like a hybrid ape, grabbing her arm and pulling her inside, Jamie hadn't been harmed, not even tied up. Mitch hadn't been so lucky. The giant ape had easily lifted him, still unconscious, out of the truck, and carried him into a large shed where he was dumped on the ground. The ape then returned to pull her into a side room that had once been an office. The window was smashed and the cold, damp air wafted in from the outside like icy fingers, which was why she was pressed into the corner away from the draft. She could hear the woman she assumed was Abigail, talking to Mitch in the larger shed beyond the door, and occasionally she heard Mitch speak, other times cry out in pain, but it had been ages and Jamie badly needed a bathroom. 

She shifted to lower her legs in preparation for standing up. The ape hybrid lifted his head and stared at her with his un-ape-like eyes. He hooted quietly and waved a nearly hairless arm at her. 

“That's all well and good,” Jamie said. “But I need to go or I'll wet myself. You'll just have to put up with it or call your mistress in here.” She stood up, slowly and with no sudden moves. The ape shifted his feet so she was always in his direct line of sight. Moving carefully, Jamie moved to the other corner and started to unzip her pants and pushing them down her legs. The giant ape watched in interested silence as his prisoner squatted to relieve herself on the floor. He continued to watch, curling his upper lip over his huge incisors when the pungent smell of urine wafted about the room, tasting the air while Jamie pulled her clothes together and returned to her former position in the other corner opposite him. 

“Sorry about the smell, but that's not my fault. I couldn't hold it any longer.” She thought it fanciful, but it seemed that the fearsome creature understood her, making noises and nodding his bald head. As she moved to try and make for a better position, the ape rose up and sauntered across the floor to the corner she'd pissed in, bending down to more closely sniff the wet floor, even sticking a finger in and tasting it.

“Yuck. It's just pee.” Jamie turned away, her mouth twisting in disgust. She knew that animals of all species seemed to be overly fond of either sniffing each other's butts or marking their territory with either one or the other of their bodily wastes. It was just unnerving to see such a huge, apelike animal show any interest in her at all. More comfortable now, she pulled up her hood and settled into her corner.

Abigail looked up when a huge Razorback entered the warehouse and padded over to her. She turned her intent gaze on the creature, which appeared to bow down before her, staying that way until she mentally released it, then it got up and sat on its haunches, awaiting further instructions. 

“It would seem you are not the only one to come seeking me, Mitch. I have to leave you now to sort this matter out, then I'll come back and we can play some more. Don't go anywhere!”

Mitch didn't raise his head until Abigail was out of sight, the Razorback still sitting on the ground, left behind to guard him, he supposed. He had no idea what she meant about others come to find her, but he wasn't going to waste the opportunity presented to him. 

“Jamie?” he shouted, turning his head to hear any reply. “Jamie!”

“In the next room, Mitch.” Her voice reached him, muffled as if from behind a door. “I'm being guarded by a huge ape...thing. He hasn't touched me and I'm able to move, but I haven't tried to escape since he brought me here.”

“That's Abedegos. I'll try and reach him, hang on.” Mitch closed his eyes and reached out, sensing the Razorback, then another mind, a more simple mind. He mentally encouraged the creature to come into the warehouse, keeping his metal tone soft and friendly. 

“Mitch? He's coming out to you,” Jamie informed him. “Keep doing what you're doing.”

He heard the door to a side room open and the thud of heavy footfalls coming towards him. “Get out of here, Jamie. Try and find somewhere to hide.”

“I'm not leaving you.”

The ape came around to the front of the chair, hooting to the Razorback who stared back without reacting to its fellow hybrid. Both creatures returned their steady gaze to Mitch as if waiting for something to happen. Jamie's hand on his shoulder made him flinch.

“I fucking told you to escape and hide,” he snarled, keeping his attention on the hybrids.

“Shut up, Mitch, and let me free you.” 

He felt her work on his hands, then the knot holding the rope about his torse. As she worked, rapid gunshots were heard outside, punctuated with grenade explosions and indistinct shouted commands. Both hybrids turned their heads to listen, but not moving. Jamie got his hands free, and the rope about his middle, her fingers working on the duct tape securing his ankles. Soon he was completely free and slowly stood up, the animals in front of him watching his every move. 

“Stay behind me,” he told Jamie, before holding up his own hand in a non-threatening gesture, sending non-aggressive thoughts to them both. The Razorback responded first, getting up and walking over to Mitch to sniff at his hand, no evidence of the hybrid raising its hackles, just a curiosity to inspect him. That done, the beast padded out of the warehouse. The gunshots were still firing but not as many as before.

“We have to get out of here before Abigail returns.”

“And go where? She seems to know how to attack you and render you out for the count,” Jamie hissed. Mitch ignored her and stepped forward to approach the great ape, Abendegos watching him with mild curiosity. When he was close he extended his hand, as you would with a dog, for the ape to inspect, which he did, lipping Mitch's fingers, then holding the back of the hand up to his flaring nostrils to take a good sniff before letting it go. Mitch stepped back to where Jamie waited. Abendegos rose up on his legs, standing a good head higher than Mitch. The ape stared at the humans that were also hybrids, shaking his head before dropping down onto his knuckles and chittering at them. The gunfire outside had stopped and Mitch knew they had little time before Abigail returned. He reached for Jamie's hand and started to walk away from the hanger-like opening to a door he'd spotted in the back wall. Abendegos started to follow them but Mitch held out his hand, projecting his command to stay, still keeping it more of a request than an order. Abendegos sat back down, letting out a mournful hoot but staying put while Mitch and Jamie put as much distance between them and him as possible, reaching the door and pulling it open to escape to the outside. 

With their backs to the wall, they were faced with a blasted landscape of dirt and dust. Towering hills of gravel were everywhere, a maze of different sized obstacles, some showing landslides, others shaped by the wind into dunes. Overhead a flock of enormous birds circled, dipping and diving at something out of sight.

“If I fall keep going,” Mitch ordered, starting to run, Jamie at his side. 

They reached the first hill of grit and kept going, darting around more until they were truly lost in the maze of broken stone and ground up rock. 

Abigail returned to the warehouse, prepared to continue her torture of Mitch, but instead found Abendegos sitting quietly some distance from the empty chair.

“Where are they?” she asked, softly at first, but then her rage taking over and making her scream, Abendegos howling and putting his hands over his ears when she mentally lashed him with her fury. Her fit of spite spent, she reached out to find her quarry. Her first attempt turned up nothing and she felt a frisson of surprise. “You learn quickly, Mitch. Let's see if the same applies to your woman.”

Jamie stumbled and almost fell. Pain, sharp and white speared her head, making her cry out. Mitch skidded to a halt and came back for her.

“Pain?”

Jamie only nodded, her eyes tearing up from the agony.

“You have to block it...” He bit his lip then wrapped his hands either side of her head, lifting and tilting her face to his. When he kissed her, Jamie's mind blanked out, cutting off the pain as she focused on the feel and taste of him, his own mind radiating love and canceling out Abigail completely. 

Abigail reeled back from the feedback, the feelings swamping her, breaking her thread and drowning her in memories of her father, of her childhood, her mother, all of her life before Pangaea. It ended all too soon, leaving her bereft with tears on her cheeks, confusion scrambling her thoughts. 

“Damn you, Mitch Morgan.”

“It's gone,” Jamie whispered. “The pain, it's gone.”

Mitch held her for several moments longer then released her, helping her to her feet. “Good. We have to get out of here.” He reached for her hand and their fingers were about to touch when a shot rang out and he fell backward, a spray of blood hitting Jamie in the face and raining down on her hands. She stared down at his body at her feet, his eyes closed behind his glasses sitting crookedly on his face. Blood soaked his coat, pumping through a bullet hole and staining the ground under him. 

She dropped to her knees just as a second shot hit the ground near where she'd been. The bullet hit the dirt and sprayed her with chips of stone, galvanizing her to move and run to the nearest towering heap of gravel and dive behind it. From the safety of the heap, she stared back at Mitch's body lying still on the ground. Biting her lip hard enough to draw blood, she fought to stop the tears blurring her vision and concentrate on how she was to escape the trap she was in. 

Abigail stared down from her position high up on a gantry, Mitch's body splayed out on the wet ground, crumpled in death like a puppet with its strings cut. The woman was gone, hidden by the heaps of loose road metal. She'd send Abendigos to hunt her and bring her back. Satisfied with her day's work, she started to climb down from the heights, dropping the sniper rifle so that it landed on a gravel heap below. 

The great ape found her, crouched against a heap not very far distant, unable to bring herself to leave Mitch's body entirely, tears blinding her. A shadow fell over her and she looked up to find the giant looming over her, chittering at her to move. Stiff, Jamie stood up, the ape grasping her wrist and pulling her along, back in the direction of the warehouse they'd left only a short time before. There was no sign of Abigail when they returned, Jamie pulled through the huge doors to a place against the wall where a ragged blanket lay heaped on the floor. There, Abendigos let her go, Jamie slumping to the floor lost in her grief. The daylight outside was starting to dim as the day drew to a close, Jamie huddling into her jacket as the temperature, like the light, started to drop.

At some time the huge space filled with a pack of Razorbacks, Abigail's personal guard, some of the animals bearing wounds from the gunfight earlier on. The woman herself didn't appear until after full dark, some security lights turning on automatically, illuminating the interior and splashing yellow light through the broken windows and open doors. Into this uncertain effect of light and dark, Abigail arrived, her pack lifting their heads to howl at her approach. She stalked among the animals as if to show off her dominance over them, her audience too sunk in her loss to even lift her head or fear the woman now standing over her. 

“Shame about Mitch. But I can't have minions that shut me out like that.”

Abigail waited for the woman to respond, but she remained immobile, slumped on the floor, the hood of her jacket covering her head and face. Clicking her tongue in annoyance, she reached out to probe the woman's mind but came up against a blank wall, unusual enough to make Abigail frown and try again. Again she was thwarted, Jamie no more accessible to her than a rock. Had Mitch done this? Impossible. Signaling for her pets to continue guarding the prisoner, Abigail stalked away, leaving the woman to stew. Outside, it was starting to rain, puddles forming on the uneven ground, the security lights reflected in the growing pools of muddy water. 


	9. Rescue and Revenge

**_ Chicago, Illinois. _ **

“Excuse me, sir but we're getting some strange reports about the movement of the Razorback hybrids.”

Garrison moved to the man's post and stood over him. “Why strange?”

“The hybrids appear to be...not as organized as they have been.”

Garrison snorted at the words used. 

“Spit it out man, what exactly is being reported?”

“That the hybrids are no longer in any sort of formation to start herding people to the east. The satellite readouts confirm this. Look.” The man pointed to a screen, showing a multitude of dots that before had been forming a definite, discernible enclosure maneuver, but were now milling around in loose packs, some not moving at all.

Garrison glanced over at the women currently listening to a video report on her console. 

“Dariela?”

The woman addressed looked up. “The team met substantial resistance and have retreated for the time being to regroup and come up with another strategy.”

“She whipped their butts,” Garrison growled, stalking to his own desk in the command room and sitting down. 

Dariela twisted in her seat and glanced back at him. “Seems that way. Several casualties, none fatal, but some will need to be left off the next attack on the quarry.”

“Dammit, they were some of the best. How do heavily armed men get defeated by an unarmed woman?” Garrison muttered. 

“Because she has an army of hybrids to command that aren't afraid of dying for her. They're intelligent and fast and she knows how to use them.”

Garrison glared at Dariela's back when she turned back to her console, processing what she'd said and looking for a way to overcome Abigail's advantage. 

**_ Little Rock, Arkansas. _ **

It was late and pitch black when Jackson reached Little Rock, rain making the roads slippery and visibility marginal. He was tired from the long drive and looked for somewhere he could pull over and nap for a couple of hours. He was using the county roads to bypass the city and keep him heading south, Abigails siren call muted for the past few hours, no longer battering his brain and scrambling his defenses. He wondered if something had happened to injure her or maybe she was unconscious to no longer be broadcasting to her pets so loudly. Jackson was just glad to be able to think clearly once more, his brain his own for a while. He drove over the bridge crossing the Arkansas river using the interstate four-forty, taking the first off-ramp to shelter out of the rain in the underpass. With thick concrete to protect him and dull the sound of the downpour, he settled into his seat, pulled his thick jacket up around his ears, and closed his eyes.

**_ Granite Mountain Quarry. _ **

Jamie opened her eyes, feeling their grittiness from crying, her mouth dry and her body cramped from laying on a hard concrete surface only mitigated by a thin blanket. When she lifted her head, light from outside bathed the interior of the warehouse in lurid oranges and yellows, shadows cast over the number of animals camped out all over the floor. A soft snuffle alerted her that the great ape, Abendegos was still keeping watch over her, his body curled up on itself, one of his huge arms covering his head as he slept. The rain had stopped at some time, leaving behind a flooded site and the nearby sound of constant dripping. Gathering her courage she sat up, keeping her movements small, stretching out her limbs to get the blood circulating. Feeling more herself, Jamie stood up, pausing to see if that small movement alerted the hybrids around her, when none of them moved, she took small steps towards the gaping, high doorway. She didn't know what she intended, but she needed to pee again and she wanted to go back to where she'd left Mitch. To do what? She had no idea. She just wanted to see him again. Hunching her shoulders she walked out into the night, her shadow moving around her as she passed first one light, then another. Unseen behind her, Abendegos followed her on silent feet and invisible in the shadows. 

After taking care of business, she went to find where she'd left Mitch. 

When she reached the spot where Mitch had been shot she stared at the ground, her brain unable to understand what she was looking at. She'd expected any blood evidence to be washed away, and it was, but there hadn't been enough flooding to carry his body away as well. In which case, where the hell was it? 

Thwarted, she turned on her heel and walked back to the warehouse, rain starting to fall again and, having had a dunking the night before, she didn't want another one with no dry clothes available to change in to. So immersed in her thoughts, she didn't notice Abendegos slide into the warehouse behind her or take up his previous position against the wall. Puzzled by the absence of Mitch's body, Jamie settled once more on the hard floor and pillowed her head on her bent arm. Had Abigail moved him? Had one of the Razorbacks decided to snack on him and dragged him somewhere more private to enjoy its meal? She shuddered to imagine that scene so didn't dwell on it more than a second. 

Jackson awoke after several hours sleep and left the underpass to keep going south. He was close now, he could feel the presence of other hybrids, feel their collective thoughts somewhere ahead of him. 

Using only his connection to the hybrids, he found himself cruising in the dawn light down a county road, leafless trees bordering it right up to the nearly the edges, the roads leading off all unsealed. He passed one and had to slam on the brakes, the connection fading, so he turned around and took the left hand turning he'd passed. Soon he started to see mounds of some pale substance, possibly sand, maybe find grit. There was no signage to tell him what he was looking at, only his own common sense deducting it was a quarry of sorts. His connection now was strong and getting stronger, not just to one particular type of hybrid, but to others in the immediate area as well. Razorbacks were simplistic creatures, for the most part, those he recognized. The others were more complex, more human and he soon parked the truck and started to walk. He jumped the low fence and started through the maze-like paths wending through the multiple pyramids of crushed stone and pulverized gravel, several large buildings coming in to view as he advanced. 

A warehouse entrance drew him and he paused, feeling something he wasn't familiar with, but not threatening either. As he stood framed in the doorway, a giant human-like figure approached him, standing upright but not walking properly. As it cleared the shadows Jackson took a step back, confronted with a larger than normal great ape with hulking shoulders and large, overgrown canines protruding from the corners of its mouth. 

Jackson pulled his hands out of his jacket pocket to indicate he was unarmed, then sent out cautious mental feelers to see if the animal meant him harm. The feedback was quite the opposite, just curiosity and a wariness of strangers instead. 

Jackson heard a faint rattling sound, a hiss of a large group of animals moving and soon he was seeing a large pack of Razorbacks pad forward and stream past him, out into the rainsoaked grounds to forage for food or take care of business. Jackson didn't move, just endured the animals coming close, some to sniff him, others to pause and inspect him before moving on, leaving Jackson alone with the hybridized great ape. 

Lastly, but by no means least, a woman appeared out of the gloom, squinting at the sun starting to appear above the horizon. He didn't recognize her, but she appeared to have been injured, or near someone who was, her face and upper body sprayed liberally with blood that had now dried.

The ape turned to regard the woman, then turned his head to stare at Jackson, making chittering and hooting noises as if introducing them to each other. 

“Are you okay?” Jackson asked. The woman stared at him.

“Why do you ask that? Shouldn't you ask what the hell I'm doing here?”

“You're covered in blood,” he said, indicating her face. Instantly, tears appeared in her eyes and she dashed them away. 

“It's not mine.”

“Sorry. Where's Abigail?”

The woman stared at him. “Are you one of his team?”

“Who's team?”

“Mitch Morgan's, of course.”

Jackson did a double-take. “Who the hell are you?”

“Sorry. I'm Jamie Campbell. I came here with Mitch...” she never got to finish. 

“You what? Is this a sick joke? Mitch died ten years ago. I was there.” The obvious anger in his voice made Abendegos fidget nervously. 

“Well he's really dead now,” Jamie spat back. “I was there. This is his blood.”

Jackson frowned, trying to figure out what was going on. “Mitch was here. Yesterday. With you?”

The woman reached up to wipe a hand over her forehead as if weary of the conversation. “I should warn you that Abigail is around here somewhere. I haven't seen her since just after she shot Mitch. I spent the night being guarded by the big ape here and surrounded by Razorbacks, so you'll forgive me if I'm a little sleep-deprived and grumpy.” She made to walk forward then stopped. “And she can do horrible things with her mind, like controlling the hybrids and causing pain. She good at that.” Then she walked forward again, passing by Jackson as if he wasn't there.

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere while I'm under guard, but I object to just squatting in the dirt when someone's watching, so if you'll excuse me?” She moved forward again, Jackson finally processing all she was saying. He darted after her and caught her arm, swinging her around to face him. 

“You asked if I was part of his team? Yes. I'm Jackson Oz. Abigail is my half-sister.”

Jamie stared down at his hand, waiting until he released her to speak. “Well, bully for you. Maybe you'd like to kill the bitch and put us all out of our misery. She's controlling the Razorbacks that escaped through the barrier and now they're diving everyone before them towards the east coast. I have nothing to use against her, but if you do? Then I suggest you use it, and soon.”

Before Jamie could continue her trek to the privacy of the gravel piles, the final player entered the field.

“Good morning, brother.”

Before he even turned to face her, Jackson raised his defenses, mentally guarding himself. Abigail started to slowly applaud him. 

“Well done. You've learned something about control. I heard rumors that someone behind the barrier had control over a pack of tame lions. They were never tame, were they Jackson?”

“No. They had been infected with the defiant pupil and accepted me as their alpha.”

Abigail laughed. “How sweet. You think you are an alpha! My brother, there is only one alpha in the world, and she stands before you.”

Jamie, listening to the exchange, had been slowly, step by step, working to remove herself from what was shaping up to be a beat down between the half-siblings, a fight she didn't want to get in-between.

“Going somewhere?” Abigail's voice rang out.

“I need to pee,” Jamie shot back.

“Well. Do what you must, but you'll excuse me if I continue to let Abendegos keep an eye on you. Can't have you wandering off, you might get lost.”

Jamie sent Abigail a look of loathing before turning on her heel and trudging towards her original destination, Abendegos not far behind. 

“Strange girl, had to kill her lover yesterday. You'd think she'd be more upset today...” Abigail shrugged, never taking her attention from Jackson.

“You mean you killed Mitch,” Jackson clarified, a muscle twitching in his cheek.

“Hmm. Yes, I did. He was weak, like you, and paid the price.”

Jackson could feel her testing his mental defenses, probing for an opening, but he wasn't about to let her. In reply he sent out his own tendrils, Abigail winces when one or two found a mark. 

“You are stronger than I anticipated,” she remarked. “An oversight. Are you prepared to join me? Or must I kill you too?” Her eyes suddenly narrowed, the only warning he got before she tried to mentally stab at his brain and force her way in. His mind remained protected and he smiled.

“I could say the same of you, Abigail. Are you prepared to come peaceably or must I kill you?”

It was a silent battle, the pair of them probing and attacking, trying to find a way in, a way to crack open the mental shields to destroy the other. After several long minutes of the struggle, Abigail staggered back, gasping. 

“You can't kill me, I'm your flesh and blood, your sister!” She sounded more confident than the emotions she was giving off. Abigail was finally up against someone her equal. She changed tactics and called to her pets, summoning them to aid her. 

“You may be able to stand against me, but you won't be able to keep me at bay and them as well!” Exultant, Abigail stood with her hands on her hips, watching as her minions appeared from among the gravel piles, advancing on the two protagonists and forming a rough circle around them. 

Abigail looked surprised when they didn't instantly attack Jackson and tear him apart. Jackson kept his focus on his sister, ignoring the hybrids at his back. 

“Not obeying orders, Abigail?” he mocked, strengthening his mental barriers. 

“Kill him!” 

The hybrids cowered back from her mental lashing, letting out whimpers and howls of pain as she tried to force them to comply. But still, they didn't obey. 

“Maybe you're not the alpha you think you are, sister,” Jackson taunted.

The object of his mockery hissed her fury, closing her eyes to mentally whip her pets into a frenzy and kill Jackson immediately. The Razorbacks writhed on the ground and snarled, snapping at the air, but still did not move from their circle around the two humans.

“If my pets are unable to perform the task, I'll simply kill you myself!” She leaped, a knife in her hand, raised high over her head, ready to plunge it into Jackson's chest. At the same instance a shot rang out and Abigail's expression turned from ferocious rage to almost comic surprise, her body folding in on itself so instead of finding her mark and stabbing Jackson, she landed at his feet, the knife falling from her nerveless fingers, blood pumping out from the gaping bullet wound that passed through her chest, and out her back, ripping her internal organs to shreds, killing her instantly.

Jackson stared in stunned horror at the woman crumpled at his feet, her blood mingling with the muddy rainwater and spreading around her in a wide lake of red.

“Excuse me, Jackson.” Mitch moved past his former teammate and approached the body, putting the sniper rifle down beside the corpse before picking up the knife. In a sudden move, he lifted Abigail's head up by her hair, bringing it up high enough while bending her neck backward, to give him easy access before slicing the knife over her throat, continuing to saw through the flesh and sinew, windpipe and bone until the head swung free of the body, dangling from Mitch's fist. 

“Now, come back from that, bitch!”

Mitch got back on his feet, Abigail's head still dangling from the grip he held on her black hair. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the head flying to land several feet away, rolling through the puddles to finally come to rest against a slope of gravel and sand. Mitch turned to Jackson, still standing in a state of shocked surprise.

“Hey. Sorry. It was the only way to end this. Anything less and she would have healed completely and started it all again.” He waited for his former friend to recover, standing over Abigail's body and letting the facts sink in.

“Mitch?”

“The same. How ya been, Jackson?”

Jackson looked down at his step-sister's remains and blinked. “What the hell just happened?”

“Sorry, didn't realize you were asleep,” Mitch mocked. “Ding dong, the witch is dead – permanently.”

Jackson raised a hand in a dismissive move. “I can see that, Mitch. I meant where the hell did you come from? Where did you get the gun? Why did she say you were dead?”

“Who? Abigail?”

Jackson shook his head. “No, the other woman...” He turned his head to stare behind him, absently noting that the hybrids were no longer clustered around them. “Where the fuck did the Razorbacks go?”

“Try to keep up, Jackson things move fast around here.” Mitch sent him a crooked smile. “The other woman was the love of my life, Jamie Campbell. The gun was used by Abigail to kill me...yesterday. She left me for dead back there, but she didn't count on me recovering so fast.” Mitch looked around the immediate area. “By the way, where is Jamie?”

Jackson turned to look behind him and pointed. “That way. She was followed by the biggest ape I've ever seen. Abigail said he was watching her, watching Jamie.”

Mitch closed his eyes for a moment, reaching with his mind. “Nope. He's lurking up there, keeping an eye on us.” Mitch looked up to see the ape sitting on one of the gravel conveyors near the top of a conical peak. Jackson followed him and whistled softly. “He's big.”

“You want to call the team in? Or shall I?” Mitch asked, cocking an eyebrow. 

Jackson folded his arms over his chest. “Team?”

“The one sent by the IADG. The one she stole the gun from in the first place. There's a shit ton of spent amo around the other side of the building if you don't believe me.”

Jackson shook his head. “No need. I have a satellite phone on my truck. I'll bring them up to date.” He paused for a moment, eyeing up the man beside him. “What are you going to do?”

“Find Jamie, then drive up to Ann Arbor and give Abe a heart attack.” Mitch grinned. Jackson gave him a look. Mitch saw it and called him on it. “What?”

“You should know something...” Jackson started but Mitch cut him off. 

“About my daughter? Is she alive?” He waited for the other man to nod. “Yeah.”

“ You met up with her in D.C?”

Jackson frowned. “How the hell..?”

Mitch shrugged. “I have my sources. Is she with Abe?”

“Yeah, but...”

“But nothing. She thinks I'm dead. Time I corrected that.”

“Mitch. She was pregnant.”

Jackson waited for that to sink in, Mitch looking thunderstruck. 

“Congratulations, Grandpa, it was a boy. I was there when he was born.”

Mitch suddenly looked down at his feet, his knees wobbly. Jackson felt the wave of emotion sweep through him, Mitch drawing in shuddering breaths in an attempt to control the rush of love and hope that threatened to floor him. Feeling some of that himself, Jackson pulled Mitch into a hug. “Congratulations, Mitch. Welcome back from the dead,” he murmured softly.

After a moment spent reining back his emotions and regaining his equilibrium, Mitch pulled away, patting Jackson on the arm. 

“Get the clean-up crew in here. We don't have to worry about the hybrids anymore. They will revert back to ordinary animal behavior from now on. There'll be no more pushing of anyone towards the east, and they don't have to nuke the shit out of the west coast.”

Jackson looked surprised again. “How did you...?”

“About the nukes? I watch the news.”

“Right. Well. I'll see you back at Ann Arbor.”

Mitch smiled. “That you will. I'll be able to introduce you all to Jamie.”

Jackson smiled. “I look forward to it. Bye, Mitch.”

“Take care, Jackson.” Mitch made to step away then stopped. “Nobody needs to know about this.” He tapped his head. “If they suspect that either of us has the same...condition as Abigail, we'll be dissected quicker than you can say 'hive mind'.”

Jackson rolled his eyes. “No kidding. I still have to stay dead. I go by the name Dylan Greene, by the way.”

“Got it. Bye, Dylan.” Mitch raised his hand in a mock salute then turned his back on his friend and walked out of site among the maze of gravel heaps. 

The short winter day was drawing to a close and still, he hadn't found her. He'd expected to catch up with her somewhere in the quarry, but she proved elusive, the ground too scuffed up by the hybrids and heavy machinery to follow any tracks. Realizing that he needed to be more co-ordinated and give his newly healed body a chance to fully recover, he trudged back to their truck still parked at the entrance to the quarry. After changing out of his muddy and blood-stained clothes, he drove into the entrance, stopping at the office to find a map of the layout of the quarry before carrying on. With the headlights and spotlights on full, he plotted a sweeping search of the quarry grounds, trying to imagine what Jamie would do while thinking him dead and being a prisoner of Abigail. 

Worse case, she'd be looking for a way to end it all. Best case, she was only thinking of finding a way to end it all. For once, his heightened senses were of no use to him. Whatever the hybrid injection via the bite was doing to her physiology, it wasn't making her detectible to him. Frustrated he thumped his fist on the horn, holding it down for an extended time before letting it stop. 

Jamie stood on the edge and stared down into the blackness far below. Like all quarries, this one had a deep hole at its center, a massive crater gouged out of the underlying bedrock, terraced to allow diggers and trucks to go deep down and quarry out the bigger rocks and truck them up to the surface. This particular hole was the first and had since been abandoned for other digs, allowing the bottom to fill up with rainwater and seepage to form a murky lake. In daylight it was a greyish green color, in the deepening gloom of the late afternoon, it was just black, with streaks of light reflecting off the rippled surface from the surrounding security lights. It had been dug below a bluff, allowing a high overlook above that of the surrounding ground level. This was where she stood, contemplating her next move. After warning Jackson about Abigail, that woman not really caring what she did, being focused on the man challenging her, Jamie had done as she said and taken care of business. But after that, she just kept going, the great ape torn between watching over his captive, or returning to his mistress, mother, owner whatever Abigail was to him. 

Soon, Jamie found herself swallowed up among the heaps of quarried rock. The distant sound of a gunshot didn't make her pause, Jamie assuming it was Abigail shooting the man, Jackson – another enemy dispatched like...

She kept walking, the landscape made up of deeply rutted roading running up and down sloping hillsides and into gullies then up the other side where a deep hole would be, some recently dug. As the daylight started to fade, she found the bluff and climbed it, her thoughts still vague and unfocused. At the top, she looked down into the lake below, her boots at the very edge of the crumbling rocks. She heard what sounded like a foghorn, somehow appropriate given her own foggy state and jumbled thoughts. It would be so easy just to step off into space, fall for a few seconds, then hit the water. If she was lucky she'd break her neck and know no more. If she wasn't, she'd probably tread water for a bit then sink into oblivion, either way, it would be an end to what was now a useless life. 

Daylight was fading fast, the truck careening around another rutted corner, a deep depression in the ground visible a little way ahead. He looked up at the sky, trying to judge how much longer it was before full dark, then saw the figure standing at the edge. His heart leapt into his throat and he slammed on the brakes, his fist hitting the horn again, repeated making it sound to draw her attention. Anything to pull her back from that dangerous edge.

Jamie heard the fog horn again, only it wasn't just a single blast, but several repeated blasts as if something was trying to get her attention. She turned her head to look behind her and saw a truck with headlights and spotlights all on high beam, illuminating the road in front of it, but making it hard to recognize the vehicle itself. She supposed it was either Jackson or Abigail, depending on who had survived, a cool breeze choosing that moment to blow over the edge of the bluff, making her sway. Someone had climbed out of the truck and was running up the same path she'd walked, his coat flapping as he ran towards her. 

Mitch dug his boots into the gritty incline and pumped his legs to make him go faster. The horn had worked and got her attention, but she was still too close to the edge. One step and she'd be gone. He shouted, his voice weak because he was using all his lung capacity to keep his momentum going. Plus there was the small matter that his poor heart was still not one hundred percent healed. 

“Jamie. Stop. For God's sake STOP!” He was nearing the summit, almost on all fours to scramble up the last few feet. His breath was gone, but his legs still worked. Jamie had turned away from him and was once again standing too close to the edge and looking down. He came within six feet and stopped, dragging air into his lungs to allow him to speak. 

“Jamie, sweetheart, can you step back from the edge?”

Jamie heard his voice and a small smile tilted her lips. “Not fair, Mitch. Haunting me before I've gone.”

“I'm not dead, sweetheart, just turn around, I'm here.”

She closed her eyes, letting his voice wash over her, soak through her.

“Didn't think I'd get to hear your voice again, Mitch. Just makes it easier to take that last step...”

“NO...Jamie, just turn around and look at me, I'm not a ghost or haunting you, I promise. Just turn around...please.”

He was so persuasive she just had to look, even if it was for the last time. She shifted her feet and turned around, tears sliding down her face.

Mitch had her attention, now he had to get her away from the edge.

“Jamie, I'm not dead, I'm very much alive and want to take you away from here.” He held out his hand. “Just take my hand, sweetheart, please?”

She stared at him, smiling sadly. “I must be delusional, but if so I don't mind. I get to see you again...”

“I'm right here, Jamie, just reach out your hand and touch me.” He took a step forward, his fingers bare inches from reaching for her jacket. 

Jamie lifted her arm, her hands still covered in dried blood. She glanced down and saw the dark spots, recognizing them for what they were her face crumpling. “You were reaching for my hand when you died...”

Mitch saw her move, a step backward, and he made a grab for her coat, grabbing a handful of material to yank her back from the edge. Jamie felt the crumbling rim of the cliff edge give way under her heel at the same moment Mitch grabbed her coat, pulling her forward. She closed her eyes, giving in to whatever fate intended for her. 

Mitch pulled her towards him and wrapped her tightly in his arms. 

“You're safe, you're safe now...God, you scared the shit out of me.” He held her, terrified that if he let her go she'd run to the edge. “Touch me, Jamie. I'm alive. I survived the shot, I'm not dead.”

Squashed against his chest, she could hear his heartbeat racing under her ear. She lifted her arms to touch his back, her fingers tentatively pressing against the fabric, feeling his solid body underneath. She opened her eyes and stared a little bemusedly at the close weave of his thermal shirt, the warmth from his skin heating her chilled face.

“You're not cold,” she whispered, pulling back a little to look upwards. 

Mitch wouldn't let her go but did loosen his grip to better look down at her face. “I'm alive, Jamie not a ghost.”

“How is that possible? I saw you dead on the ground?”

“Hybrids have a great capacity to heal themselves. She didn't kill me. I healed.”

“Then you're not dead?” Her bemused tone made him chuckle.

“No, sweetheart, I'm not dead.”

She snuggled into his body, his warmth seeping into her until she felt like she was glowing. “Can we go home now?”

Mitch stared out at the horizon, the last bit of daylight a mere strip of lighter grey under leaden clouds. “Yeah. We can go home now. We just have a pit stop to make on the way.”

Carefully, he turned them so they were heading down the slope, away from the crumbling edge, to the truck, still ablaze with lights, waiting for them at the bottom. 


	10. Reunion

_ ** Ann Arbor, Michigan. ** _

The sound of vehicles crunching to a halt on the driveway had Isaac jumping up and down on the couch and yelling, “they're here, they're here!” Pizza decided to join in and barked without let up, adding to the chaos.

Abe opened the door, expecting to find Jackson back on his doorstep, but the man standing on the step was not at all what he expected. 

“Good, God. You're alive!”

“That's what people keep telling me. How've ya been, Abraham?”

Mitch found himself engulfed in a bear hug that made his ribs creak. Abe held him, pulling back only to wipe his eyes, not caring if he was seen to cry. “You are back from the dead. This is truly a time of miracles.” Abe waved him forward. “Come in, come in.”

Mitch turned to gesture the woman behind him forward. “Abe, this is Jamie, Jamie? This is Abraham Kenyatta, a good friend to have in any and all situations.”

“Hello, Jamie, please come in.” Abe looked past them. “Jackson? What is taking you so long?!”

“What? No hug for the hero of the hour?” Jackson's plaintive complaint reached him from the back of his car, where he was pulling out bags. Abe went to help while Mitch drew Jamie into the house. Dariela came out of the kitchen and gasped before throwing herself at Mitch and hugging him almost as hard as her husband had done moments before. 

“Holy shit! Mitch!” She drew back and looked up into his face. “What the hell happened to you?”

Mitch disentangled himself and drew Jamie forward. “It's a long story. This is Jamie. Jamie, this is Dariela, ex-army ranger, and seriously badass.”

“No so much these days, welcome, Jamie. You are in very august company. We all thought him dead, instead you've been where?”

“West coast, for the most part,” Mitch told her, not elaborating further. As Mitch peeled off his coat, a young woman appeared in the doorway with a baby in her arms. Mitch froze, his eyes searching the new mother's face. “Clementine?”

“Hey, Dad. I'll want to hear all about that story too.” She stayed in the doorway, Mitch dripping his coat and walking towards her slowly.

“I was told the team hadn't got to you in time, that you'd died. It's why I never looked for you, I'm sorry.”

Clem tried to smile, the effort watery at best. “Dad, I had a baby.”

Mitch gave her a 'well, duh' grin. “I can see that. Can I have a hold?”

Clem only hesitated a second, then turned to allow Mitch to take possession, reminding herself that he'd already handled her for two years before he left. Mitch instantly lost his nervousness, holding the baby like a professional, not even disturbing it from its nap. He looked into the tiny, newborn face and sighed. “ Does he have a name?”

“I named him for his father, Samuel Morgan Lewis Parker,” Clem informed him.

Mitch looked up. “Nice. He'll have a choice of any of them for his first name.” He teased. Then looked around. “Where's the dad?”

Sam appeared from behind Clem and stood beside her, holding her hand. “That would be me.”

Mitch heard an edge to the young man's voice but dismissed it as nerves at meeting Clem's parent newly returned from the list of the deceased. 

“I look forward to getting to know you both, and my grandson.” Mitch handed the sleeping babe back to Clem, bending down to kiss the child's forehead before letting go. He turned to introduce Clem to Jamie but she was on the other side of the room, talking to Dariela and Tess, Jackson's partner from the refugee center, so he didn't interrupt her. Jackson was entering the room together with Abe, the room instantly filling up with too many people, making it shrink exponentially, Pizza loving all the new faces and barking his head off. 

Later, Mitch sat on the couch after a hot shower and a fabulous meal, his arm about Jamie's shoulders, her body snuggled up to his. Jamie had also had a shower and felt a shit ton lighter and a whole lot nicer to be near. Wet wipes could only do so much.

Dariela, watching the pair from an armchair thought that Mitch was looking better than when she'd seen him ten years ago. He looked younger, very much happier, and somehow different. She could add the same as anyone else, and for a man who should be in his fifties or near enough, he looked more like he was still in his thirties. The woman at his side seemed to also have an unusual glow about her and young enough to be one of his old college pupils, only that would put her somewhere in her forties and she hardly looked a day older than twenty-five or so. Even Jackson looked older than Mitch now. If she didn't know better, she'd almost say that Mitch didn't look old enough to have a daughter in her twenties, let alone be a grandfather.

“So Mitch, you've told us your story of survival, and where you've been living, but what I want to know is how did you manage to shed twenty years along the way, 'cos I'd swear you look younger than me now and you must be knocking fifty if you're a day?”

Every eye in the room, except for Jamie's, swiveled to look at Mitch. Jackson as surprised as anyone. “I knew there was something. When I first saw you, I couldn't work out what it was, but Dariela is right.”

“You haven't aged much yourself, Jackson. My change was just less subtle than yours.” Mitch retorted, sharing a glance with Jamie. 

“Change? What sort of change?” Abe asked, all his scientific interest focused on Mitch now. “You haven't told us what happened when you caught up with Abigail. Maybe now is a good time?”

Mitch and Jackson shared a look. “I'll let Jackson tell that tale. I've done enough talking for one night.” He turned to Dariela. “As for my...age. All I'll say is that what initially killed me all those years ago on Pangaea, was also my salvation. Like Jackson was affected by being bitten by a dog and developing special...skills, so I wasn't just bitten I was savaged, the end result being more pronounced possibly because I was older.”

“I would be very interested in doing a blood work up, Mitch.”

“I know, Abe. And I promise to let you take as much as you like, just not tonight.” Mitch noticed that Clem was getting up to take the baby upstairs.

“Clem? Can I come up with you?”

“Of course you can,” Clem said, leading the way. Mitch turned to Jamie to ask her to join him, but she shook her head. “Enjoy this time, Mitch. I'll see you later.”

He bent down to give her a kiss then hurried after his daughter. Sam, sitting to the side, glanced at Mitch as he passed him, Jamie catching the look that twisted the young man's features just for a second, only seen by her, before Sam's face was once more the pleasant bland of before. She mused on that before hearing Abe asking Jackson to relate what had happened at the quarry. 

Jamie tuned out most of it until it came to his showdown with Abigail. 

“She was trying to attack me with her mind, but I've learned a thing or two over the last ten years and I was able to block her. Long story short, it came to an impasse. We were both as strong, mentally as the other. She then changed tack and tried to kill me with a knife. That was when Mitch appeared and shot her, but he didn't stop there. He then took the knife and cut her head off.” A collective gasp of shock and horror went through the room, Jamie glancing over at Clem's boyfriend to see he was half out of his seat and his brown skin now looked tinged with grey. Jackson continued his tale. “It was like something out of a gods and monsters movie. Mitch severed her head, held it up like she was Medusa, then flung it away. He said it was the only way to prevent her from coming back.”

“Good, God,” Abe muttered. “I would never have thought Mitch capable...”

“It must have been horrible for you, Jackson, she was your sister?” Tessa added. 

“Half-sister, and no, I was more surprised to see Mitch, to be truthful. Abigail thought she was the alpha of all the hybrids and they were going to take over the world, so really – Mitch did the world a favor.”

“Mitch saves the world – again!” Dariela sing-songed from her armchair. Jamie glanced over to where Sam had been sitting and saw his chair was empty. Something about the young man and his reactions seemed off to her, and it worried her. 

“So what now?” Tessa asked, catching Jackson's hand and lacing it with her own. Jackson smiled at her before speaking. 

“Guess we hand it over to the professionals to mop up and return everything to normal again.”

Abe cleared his throat. “Not quite that simple, Rafiki. You're forgetting the hybrid nests that Abigail seeded in every major country. As her parting gift to the world, she has activated the nests in no particular order, but they are spawning a whole host of new hybrids, including, but not limited to a giant squid, and an invisible snake.”

“I had a close encounter with one of those squids. Mitch has a sample, I believe.”

Abe looked at Jamie. “A sample?”

Dariela laughed softly. “My husband is never so happy than when he has the chance to experiment with 'samples'!”

“Samples could give us the edge if they can be used to find a way to curb the hybrids from reproducing. Even if their hyper-aggression has been curbed, they are still competing with every other animal on the planet for food and territory, let alone the human population. They are where they should not be.”

“Isn't it too far along to do anything about that?” Jamie asked, her question sincere. “If they are no longer trying to attack everyone, can't we all just...get along?”

Abe turned to answer her. “That would be a nice idea, but these creatures were not mutated by nature, not these most recent ones, at least. These were created in a laboratory, with no thought to how they might affect the biology of the planet and the humans and animals already inhabiting it. We don't know what effect they will have on our water, if they are going to be too aggressive on smaller species, their life cycle, and how that will affect the animals that live around them. Do they carry viruses or parasites that could impact humans and domestic livestock? Can we combat them with conventional measures? What do they eat and will that steal food from existing species? You see, almost all the animal species have their niche created over millennia of trial and error. If that niche is taken over by a more aggressive species it could threaten the animal existing there now and wipe it out in a generation. We are only partway into trying to understand what happened to the native fauna of the planet with the pandemic ten years ago. To now have to study an entirely new collection of species that were thrown together genetically and tipped out onto an unsuspecting ecology will spell disaster for possibly thousands of animals, insects, and birds.”

The room fell silent as they all digested what Abe was saying. Jamie got to her feet and looked around the room. “I'm sorry, but I can't keep my eyes open any longer. Can you show me where Mitch and I can doss down?”

That effectively broke up the party, Dariela directing Jamie to the downstairs guest bedroom that Clem had formerly inhabited, while the others cleared the living room for Jackson and Tessa to make up a bed in. 

When Mitch came down the stairs, he went into the kitchen where Abe was loading the dishwasher.

“Hey.”

“Mitch. I'm glad you got to spend time with Clem and her baby.”

“Yeah. That was a surprise when Jackson told me. Does she have any idea how that came about?”

Abe raised an eyebrow. “Do I really have to tell you?”

Mitch chuffed and shook his head. “I didn't mean that. I mean, was she exposed to something unusual, or is Sam...” He trailed off. “Abe, what do you know about Sam?”

“Not a lot. He met Clementine not long ago, they traveled around the world a bit, fell in love, and now have a baby.”

“A little sparse on details. Who were his parents? Where did he live?”

“It's been a bit hectic around here in the last week, Mitch. Plus, I wasn't about to start an interrogation and have Clementine leave because we don't trust the father of her child.”

“No. You're right.” Mitch clapped the large African on the shoulder. “Anything interesting show up in the placenta?” he asked instead. 

Abe chuckled. “Old habits die hard, and it was an opportunity too good to pass up. Tomorrow I will give you a tour of my laboratory and you can judge for yourself. I would appreciate your input.”

Mitch stifled a yawn. “Yeah. Tomorrow. Sounds like a plan. Where did you put Jamie and me for the night?”

Jamie was already in bed when he entered the guest room, shutting the door quietly behind him. She rolled over when he approached the bed.

“Hey.”

“Thought you might be asleep already.”

“No. I wanted to wait for you. We need to talk.”

Mitch started to undress, pulling off his thermals before starting on his boots and jeans. Jamie watched him, enjoying the striptease, even while she marveled at having him with her, in the flesh, at all. He went to use the ensuite, wearing only his snug-fitting trunks, Jamie admiring the back view as much as the front. 

After a little while, he was done and switching off the lights, leaving only one of the bedside lamps on, before climbing under the covers. 

“This is nice,” he murmured, leaning forward to kiss her. Jamie let him for a few delicious moments, then pulled back, her hand on his bare shoulder to hold him away. Mitch sighed, but pulled back and propped himself up on the pillow against the headboard. 

“Okay. Okay. You want to talk.”

“You need to watch your back against that young man, Sam.”

Mitch looked surprised. “What did he do?”

“You didn't see his expression when you passed him to go upstairs with Clem. I expected to see a knife sprout between your shoulder blades from that swiftly hidden expression alone.”

“That's it?”

“No. I saw his face when Jackson explained about Abigail's death. Sam looked devastated, completely shocked. Yes, it was horrific, but he was more affected than I'd expect from someone who didn't know who 

Abigail was or how she was connected to you.”

Mitch looked unconcerned. “So, he's a sensitive young man with a dislike of beheadings.”

Jamie huffed. “It was more than that, don't be flippant.”

“Sorry. I just think you might be reading more into it.”

“If I am, then that's fine, but don't turn your back on him, Mitch. He's going to be trouble, I just know it.”

A silence fell between them, Mitch doing her the courtesy of reviewing what he knew of the father of his grandchild. “Okay. We've only just arrived, but Abe and Dariela and Jackson have seen more of him, so I'll have a chat with them tomorrow and find out more.” He thought it best to keep the fact he'd already asked Abe about the boy to himself because it only reinforced her argument that they knew very little about Sam Parker. 

“Thank you.”

Mitch slipped down the bed, drawing Jamie into his arms, snuggling together under the covers.

Jamie listened to his steady heartbeat and gently traced the faint scar that indicated where he'd been shot. “I still can't believe you survived that bullet,” she whispered, his skin warm and velvety under her fingertips. 

“I'm happy to spend the rest of my life showing you how alive I am,” Mitch whispered back.

Jamie smiled against his skin. “I like the sound of that.”

They lay in the dark just listening to each other breathe. 

“When are we going home?” Jamie asked. 

Mitch sighed. “I thought you'd like to meet my old team, be around nice people for a change?”

“They are nice.”

Mitch waited for her to continue. “But?”

“I was never much of a social butterfly, even on my good days.”

“Okay. Well, before we can go home, we have to know they aren't still going to deploy nuclear warheads and try and mess up the back yard. There's also the matter of whether I help with the problem they're having with Abigail's nests.”

“Do you have to do something?”

“I could walk away from the situation, after all, I left the refugee center and all the people there without looking back...”

“You saved me,” Jamie retorted.

“Yeah. I'm a hero.”

“No. You were sensible and retreated in the face of apparently insurmountable odds.”

Mitch left out a chuff of laughter. “I think that's called running away.”

“I don't. Anyway, you're just trying to distract me. If we do find out that the bombing is off, I have a feeling you'll still want to hang around and see what happens next.” 

“I can't lie. I do want to spend some time with Clem...”

“You could ask her to come and live with us? There's plenty of room.”

“True. If it is found out that she has given birth to the first baby in a decade, she'd be hidden away in some lab along with her child to be picked apart for the secret of how it happened. Sam would have the same done to him.”

“So hiding out for a while, sixty feet underground, is not a bad option for a short time?”

“No, not a bad idea at all. Maybe a bit dodgy if Sam intends something sinister and tries to kill us in our beds?”

“Hmmm.” Jamie lay quiet for a while. Mitch waited but when she didn't appear to want to continue to discuss the issue, he relaxed and closed his eyes. He was wrong.

“Okay. So I see it this way. You need to talk to the others about Sam, see if they've noticed anything unusual. Maybe speak to Clem about what she know's of Sam's history. Or maybe ask Sam directly and see how he reacts? He seems a little on edge, barely hiding his feelings and now upset over Abigail's death, maybe that could be useful?”

“Uh-huh,” Mitch grunted.

“Then see if the IADG need your help again with the hybrid nests, if not then find out if the whole bombing idea has been dropped...”

“Uh-huh,” 

“And finally, persuade Clem to bring her baby and join us at the silo until the world is back to some semblance of normal or the whole human sterility crisis is resolved.”

“I'm impressed. You've been working this all out since you've been up here?”

“Don't laugh at me.”

Mitch gave her a squeeze. “Wouldn't dream of it. I think you've pretty much summed it all up. Can we stay here with Abe while we sort all that out?”

Jamie gave a wiggle. “I don't see why not? This bed is rather comfortable and I'd like to celebrate the fact we've come back from the brink of disaster, but not tonight...” she yawned. “I'm just so fucking tired.”

Mitch chuckled. “We'll save up our energy for tomorrow night, but I warn you, I intend to completely exhaust you with my demands, deal?”

Jamie smiled against his skin. “Okay.”

Mitch felt her relax against him, her warm breath puffing against his neck, her body soft and supple and perfectly fitted against his own. He chewed over all she'd said, picking it apart and weighing up the components into what he'd tackle first as well as ask himself how far was he prepared to put himself out for the cause of saving the human race. He wasn't so egocentric to think there was nobody else who couldn't come up with a cure to reverse the effects of the TX14 gas, but it was also true that in all the time he'd been dead, nobody had actually come up with a cure for the issue. Was it so crucial that the fate of humanity was dependent on his involvement? He was the best part of a decade out of touch with the latest scientific breakthroughs and the technology available to aid research, was he just too old school to make much of a difference? Or could he be just enough old school to see the problem differently than those with their noses buried in it? Kinda seeing the wood for the trees, thing.

The more he pondered the issues that Jamie had raised, the more his natural curiosity started to look at the problem, surprising himself at how exciting and engaging it started to look. He hadn't really used his scientific brain in some time, not like when they were first battling the defiant pupil. Making up experiments to test theories, taking samples to explore possibilities. Coming up with solutions in ridiculous time frames to solve an immediate danger to himself or the team. If he was honest with himself, he had to admit he'd buried those memories on purpose, his anger and bitterness at behind left to be discovered by Abigail and then being told a falsehood about his daughter had killed off any desire to use his intellect to save what he considered an ungrateful race. He'd have to remember to ask Abe what was done for the team when the animals were cured. Did they get medals and a thank you from the President?

While pondering such weighty matter he succumbed to the comfort and warmth, good food, and company, letting out a snore as he settled in to sleep, Jamie snug against his side. 


	11. Discoveries and Decisions

It was a full house around the table the next morning. All the matters that Jamie had brought up were fodder for a lively discussion over toast, pancakes, and coffee. The only matter not discussed was Sam, the young man appearing happy to be part of the chatter, no evidence of not liking any of the people at the table. When Mitch whispered that to Jamie, she rolled her eyes at him and whispered back, “just you wait!”

Abe was eager to get down to his laboratory in the basement. Mitch presented the severed tentacle and also explained about the rapid healing side of being a hybrid, something not mentioned the night before. 

“Why didn't you mention it?” Abe asked.

“For one, I didn't want everyone rushing out to be bitten by a hybrid. Jamie was bitten months ago and isn't showing any particular sign of either mental abilities above the norm, or special healing tendencies either.”

Abe looked thoughtful. “Has she been injured since the bite?”

Mitch frowned. “Nothing more serious than bruising.”

“Then you don't know if she has the same healing capacity.”

“I'm not going to cut her, just to test the theory!” Mitch retorted with heat. 

Abe patted him on the arm. “I wasn't going to suggest we do. What about Jackson?”

“Okay. You can slice up Jackson,” Mitch grinned. Abe responding in kind. 

“I want some blood from him, so we'll try it then.”

“Right. Did you notice anything off with Sam last night?”

Abe raised an eyebrow. “What would qualify as off?”

Mitch folded his arms over his chest. “Jamie is convinced there's more to the young man than just being Clem's boyfriend. She saw his reactions to me, and to Jackson describing Abigail's death. In both cases, he reacted in a manner that suggests some history with us, either as individuals or as a team, and also that he might have known Abigail.”

“There was nothing to suggest that from the story Clem told us. You're saying that maybe he inveigled his way into Clem's affections to somehow get to us?”

“Sounds wild, but Jamie was quite emphatic about his hidden expressions, not once but twice.”

“Let me go get Jackson, and see if he or Tess have noticed anything.”

When Jackson joined them he was quick to pass on what Tess had told him. “She said if looks could kill I'd be sprouting knives in my back.”

“So you too?” Abe. “It seems we might need to look a little more closely at the young man.”

“Don't suppose we can just lure him down here then interrogate him?” Mitch asked, half-jokingly. 

“How do you think Clem would react when she finds out?” Abe asked. 

Mitch shrugged. “If he's innocent, we apologize and go forward. If he is, in fact, hiding something, and remember both Tess and Jamie were independent witnesses, then we discover a viper in our nest and deal with it.”

“Again, how do you think Clem will react to having the father of her miracle baby treated this way?” Abe asked more forcefully.

“Not well, but what choice do we have?” Mitch replied. Jackson looked thoughtful. 

“Let's get this experiment of your's done first, Abe. We know Mitch has the healing ability, so let us see if I do too.”

Half an hour later the proof was in front of them. Jackson rubbed his fingertips over his arm where minutes before had been a cut that ordinarily would have needed a couple of stitches. Now it was a mere pink line on his arm. 

“I think that is pretty conclusive,” Mitch announced. “I survived a bullet to the chest, and Jackson has healed in minutes from a deep cut.”

“I'm convinced,” Abe added. 

Mitch nodded. “Time to invite Sam to the party.”

Sam followed Abe down to the basement, wary but also curious. He had wanted to find out more about the men who Abigail had described as enemies of hers and the worlds, let alone being the men who caused the death of his parents and destroyed his home. Now they were all together and Sam was no longer a helpless child. He curled his fingers over the gun in his coat pocket and looked around Abe's laboratory. Jackson and Mitch were already there, neither looking tense nor on edge, in fact, quite the opposite, and Abe appeared to be his usual, affable self, no hint that any of them knew or suspected who Sam really was. 

“Hey, Sam,” Jackson called out, smiling. Sam smiled back and wandered over to him.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked, peering at the bench. Jackson appeared to have a severed tentacle in a glass jar of liquid, which he was swirling around. “Is that a tentacle?”

“Sure is. Mitch got a sample from the creature when it attacked Jamie. Abe is going to find out if it has some special properties.”

“What sort of properties?” Sam stared at the lump of suckered flesh with disgust. “It's dead.”

Abe approached. “Ah, yes. But even dead, we are finding that the hybrids have many unique abilities so we test everyone we find with the idea it might be able to be used to help humanity in some way.”

“You're joking?” 

“No. We came up with the cure for the animal pandemic ten years ago by combining the samples of several species of creatures that had been mutated by the virus, and some that hadn't and created the serum that cured all the animals.” Abe explained.

“Yeah. I know who you all are. Clem always said her father saved the animals.” To the other's ears, Sam said it in a way that didn't seem to be particularly complimentary.

“You've met us before?” Mitch asked, moving away from his place by the bench. “Where would that be, exactly?”

Sam suddenly realized he was in the center of a circle of serious-looking men, all of them taller and bulkier than himself. He tried to ease back but found the bench hemming him in. 

“I saw the newspapers...”

Jackson shook his head. “Weak. You know us somehow. What has Clem got to do with all this?”

Sam looked at the three men crowding him against the bench. “I don't know what you mean?”

“Clem's just had a baby, Sam. What is so special about you that she was able to do that?” Mitch asked, his eyes flashing behind his glasses. 

“There's nothing special. I thought it was her.”

Mitch shrugged. “Could be, but we need proof. We need a blood sample, Sam.”

“Is that what this is all about?” Sam blustered, his voice high pitched. “You want my blood?”

Mitch arched an eyebrow and nodded. Sam curled his hand around the gun. “Sorry, but I don't make donations.” He pulled the weapon out and held his arm extended, pointing the gun at one man after another. “You can all go to hell!”

Mitch, Jackson, and Abe all exchanged a look. Mitch let out a sigh. “Guess that's pretty conclusive.” He turned to Sam. “So you do know us from somewhere, and we did something that upset you?”

“Upset me?” Sam's voice was almost a scream, his body taut, and the hand holding the gun wavering as he moved it to cover them all. “Upset? You fuckers killed my parents, you destroyed my home and now...now you're boasting about killing..about beheading the woman that saved me!!” His eyes were looking wild, showing the whites all around them. 

Abe held out his hand. “Calm down, Sam. When did we kill your parents?”

Sam turned to stare at him. “On the island. My parents were part of the Shepherds, we lived on the island, I was happy there, we had a home there and you came and it all went to hell!” The gun was wobbling but still pointing towards them. “The Razorbacks got out and...and they attacked the base. We had no warning, my parents...” Sam paused, swallowing hard. “My parents got me on a boat, but they were overrun by the hybrids before they could board. They were torn apart in front of me.” Sam's arm started to shake, his finger still on the trigger. “I swore then I'd find out who released them and now I know it was you...all of you!”

Mitch stood in front of the barrel, shielding Abe. “So now you're going to shoot us all? What are you going to tell Clem? How will you explain to her why you shot her father after only just getting me back?”

Sam curled his lip. “She doesn't need you. You've been dead all this time, she's already mourned you and moved on. Being dead a second time will allow her to bury you for good.”

“Ooh, harsh,” Mitch mocked. “She might not look so kindly on the man who killed me.”

Sweat was starting to bead on Sam's forehead, his teeth visibly clenched. 

“Shut the fuck up!”

Jackson made a move and Sam swung the gun around, letting off a shot that went wild. Abe instantly pounced and wrenched the gun out of Sam's hand, Mitch grabbing the boy's arm and twisting it up his back to immobilize him. A clatter of feet on the basement stairs announced the arrival of Dariela, Tessa, and Jamie, the smoke from the discharge still visible in the air. 

“What the fuck?” Dariela shouted. “Who got shot?”

Mitch, still holding Sam's arm shrugged. “Sam tried to shoot Jackson and missed.” 

Tessa instantly pushed past to go to Jackson. “I'm fine,” he told her when she questions him. “It's buried in the wall behind me.”

Dariela and Jamie made their way into the crowded basement, keeping back from where Mitch held the boy. 

“Got somewhere I can put this?” Mitch asked. Abe relieved Mitch of his prisoner and marched the young man to a corner that held a cage large enough to hold him then pushed him inside. It wasn't tall enough for Sam to stand, but he could sit comfortably.

“Why did he have a gun?” Jamie asked, leaning against one of the benches and folding her arms. 

“He wanted revenge for his parents,” Mitch explained. “Apparently they were part of the Shepherds living on Pangaea and were killed by hybrids, I'm assuming when Sam was about eleven. He blamed us for their deaths?”

“Were you?” Jamie asked. Mitch shook his head. “Not exactly. We'd all been put in the Razorback's paddock to be killed by them after we released the birds carrying the cure. I expect Abigail thought it was a neat way to dispose of us before they released the TX14 gas. Long story short, the Razorback's ended up killing the guards and not us, but in the process, they escaped their compound and ran rampant through the Shepherd's base instead. I stayed behind to keep the electric fence between them and the airfield from failing to allow the team to take off.”

“That's when they attacked you?”

Mitch nodded. “The team was gone and the fence was holding them out, but I didn't know until too late that there was a pack inside the building, probably the same one that killed Sam's parents.”

Everyone looked at the young man sitting in the cage, his head bent in defeat, his face hidden from them. If he'd looked up he would have seen the pity and compassion on the faces of the people he'd tried to kill. 

Jackson picked up the narrative. “According to Sam, Abigail stepped into the breach and raised him. He's known Abigail, worked for her for years which begs the question was his meeting with Clementine an accident or premeditated? And being that close to Abigail, did she experiment on him to cause Clem's pregnancy?”

Dariela stepped forward. “You tested the placenta, didn't you?”

Abe nodded. “I did. As far as I can tell it was perfectly normal, but I also had no comparison with a hybridized human. Now I have two to test, plus I will test Sam's blood as well.”

Another set of steps were heard behind them on the stairs. “Sam? Dad?”

Clementine's voice made everyone turn to look as the new mother carefully negotiated the stairs. “What's going on? Why is Sam in a cage?”

Mitch stepped forward. “Clem, honey, we're trying to figure that out right now.”

Clem stared at Sam. “What happened?” 

Sam looked up, his expression sullen. “Nothing.”

Clem glanced at the people around her. Jackson held up the gun, dangling it from a finger by the trigger guard. Clem looked back at Sam. “Why do they have your gun?”

Sam looked away, his guilt written in his posture and expression. 

“Sam?” Clem's appeal was heartfelt, her anguish clear. Mitch approached her and put an arm around her shoulders. 

“Clem. How did you meet Sam?”

His daughter looked up at him. “We...I...that is...I went to live with grandpa until I was sixteen, then I...I ran away. I met Sam in Helsinki, he was part of a group making their way around the world, backpacking.” She glanced at Sam. “We traveled across Europe...I let grandpa know where I was so he wouldn't worry, but I needed to do something, go somewhere.”

She paused, Mitch steering her over to an empty chair to sit down. 

“Go on, Clem.”

“We caught a plane for US ex-pats to return to the states, when we landed I realized that I was pregnant.” She glanced at Sam, then up at her father. 

“It was such a surprise, but I wasn't showing so Sam got a job and we found a tiny apartment, so I could hide. It was only when I read about Jackson's and the refugees that I thought I'd see if he could help.”

Clem paused again, biting her lip. “I don't understand. Did you frighten him? Was he trying to defend himself?” She looked at the faces around her. “You guys are pretty intimidating all together, you know?”

“Clem, I'm sorry to put you through this. It hasn't just been today. Tessa and Jamie intercepted Sam's expression several times when he thought no one was looking, especially when Jackson or myself were around...”

Clem interrupted. “That's hardly a crime!”

“And you would be right, sweetheart. But again, last night when Jackson told his story about Abigail...”Mitch paused himself. “Were you told about that?”

Clem looked down at her hands. “Sam told me you...er...beheaded her.”

“Yeah. I did. It was the only way to stop her coming back from the dead.”

“But what has that got to do with Sam?”

Mitch glanced at the young man, giving him a chance to talk if he wanted. Sam lowered his head and remained mute, condemning himself with his silence. 

“Sam was adopted by Abigail when his own parents died in South America. They were Shepherds, working with Abigail on Pangaea but were killed by the Razorbacks they released to try and kill me and the team. I don't know if your meeting up with Sam was an accident or contrived, but he wants Jackson and me dead, blaming us for the death of his parents and now the death of Abigail, his foster mother.”

Clem looked up at her father, her fingers covering her mouth. “No. No, it can't be true...Sam?” she turned to face him. Sam looked up at her pleading expression, and then at the adults around her. 

“The baby is still mine, you can't deny that!” He spat out, scowling.

Mitch stepped forward, blocking Clem from Sam's view, Dariela and the other women moving forward to support his daughter. 

“And that is why we want a sample of your blood. Your DNA could well help towards solving the sterility problem. If Abigail experimented on you with hybrid gene-splicing she could have found the answer the world needs.”

Sam folded his arms over his chest. “Well fuck you. We released the gas to stop the population exploding any further, so I'm not about to allow you to use me to find the cure.”

Mitch sighed and turned to look at Abe. “Just as well we don't need your co-operation, Sam. Abe? If you would?” He stood aside and Abe stepped forward, presenting a small dart gun that he fired, the feathered dart injecting its payload before Sam could pull it from his chest. 

“Come with us, Clem, we'll leave the doctors to do what they have to do.” Dariela lifted Clem out of her chair and, with an arm around her, shepherded her up the stairs, Jamie and Tessa behind them. 

“Clem?” Mitch called to his daughter as she sat with her back to him on the side of the bed, nursing her child. 

“Is it done?”

“Yeah. We've taken a full range of samples and Abe is working on them now. Sam is unharmed, but he's still in the cage at the moment recovering from the anesthetic.”

“He's not an animal, Dad.”

“No. But he is a danger to himself and to us. I wanted to talk to you before anything is decided.”

Clem turned her head to stare at her father. “Decided?”

“He's the father of your child, Clem. We wouldn't decide anything without talking to you first.”

Clem looked down at little Samuel nestled in her arms. “He told me his parents were dead, but nothing much else about them. He was kind, he understood because I'd lost my parents too. He was fun and he said he loved me...” she ended on a sob, sniffing to stop her nose dripping on the baby. Mitch reached for a tissue from the box on the side table, handing it to her to wipe her eyes. 

“He didn't lie about that, Clem. Like you, he did lose his parents, he just didn't tell you everything.”

Clem sniffed, the baby finally finishing his meal and detaching from her nipple. Mitch stood up and came around to take the baby from her while she adjusted her clothes. With Samuel on his shoulder, Mitch gently joggled him to bring up any wind. 

“This brings back memories,” said Mitch, smiling broadly. “You were such a greedy baby and always sucked as much air into your tummy as milk.”

Clem smiled at the sight of her father bouncing on his toes and carefully rubbing the baby's back in circles. At length, the technique worked and a creditable burp was heard, making his grandfather chuckle softly. 

“Here. I think he needs changing.” He handed the baby back and watched as Clem spread a cloth on the bedcover with one hand, then expertly divested her child of his nappy and replaced it with another. Mitch found himself holding the soiled diaper.

“Can you take that downstairs? There's a bucket in the laundry. I'll be down in a minute.”

“Sure thing. Bring Samuel, I haven't introduced him to Jamie yet.”

Clem nodded and Mitch left the room, his nose wrinkling as he carefully carried his noxious parcel to the laundry bucket. 

Dariela was handing around drinks, hot and cold to everyone around the dining table when Clem appeared holding little Samuel. She approached her father and handed the baby over, smiling as he started to pull funny faces at her child, the baby gazing back round-eyed. Mitch turned to the woman at his side.

“Jamie, I'd like you to meet my grandson, Samuel. Samuel, this is Jamie.”

He held the baby towards her and Jamie smiled weakly. 

“Very cute.”

“Do you want to hold him?” 

Jamie waved her hands. “Oh. No. I've never held a baby before, I couldn't...”

“It's easy. You put a hand under his bottom, and the other to support his head and neck, then fold your arms against your body and...there you go.”

Jamie gingerly did as he instructed, Samuel gazing up at the new face with interest, his arms waggling about as she settled him against her chest. 

“Oops, not too low or he'll think he's getting another meal!” Mitch cautioned, helping her position the baby a little higher. “There you go.”

The shawl the baby was wrapped in fell open, revealing another smaller, bright yellow blanket underneath.

Jackson stared at the baby, the small blanket tweaking a memory, so distant he had to work hard at bringing it back. When he placed where he'd seen that blanket last, he suddenly stood up, the chair falling to the floor behind him. The sudden noise made both Jamie and the baby jerk, the baby instantly wailing at the fright. Everyone looked at Jackson. Tessa getting up and putting a hand on his arm.

“Jackson? What's the matter?”

Jackson pointed at the baby. “That blanket, where did you get that?”

Clem looked at the yellow blanket. “It was Sam's, the only thing he still had from his childhood, he kept it to give to his own son.”

Jackson staggered, then abruptly sat down on the righted chair. Samuel had stopped crying, Jamie carefully handing the child back to its mother. Mitch stepped forward. “What's up, Jackson?”

“I had a wife, twenty years ago now. Nia. We had a son, Connor. God, I was so young, younger than Connor is now. We stopped at a gas station, but there were rebels there, they shot at the car, it caught fire...Nia...I couldn't reach her. I was knocked out, so I thought Connor perished with her. Now it seems he didn't.”

“And that blanket is the proof?” Mitch asked. Jackson nodded.

“Nia knitted that for him, she loved the bright color...” Overwhelmed, he covered his face with his hands, Tessa wrapping her arms around him to offer comfort. 

Mitch stared at the others around the table. “That's going to take some convincing. Clem?”

His daughter stared back at him. “I had no idea. Sam...er Connor never said anything, only that his mother had knitted the blanket and it was in his belongings when he lost his parents. He can't have known it was his birth mother that made it for him, not his foster mother.”

“But Abigail knew, somehow,” Mitch muttered. Jackson looked up. 

“Dad knew. He was there soon after Connor was born. He knew.”

“He must have told Abigail, they worked together after all, but still seems an odd reminder...” Mitch trailed off.

Clem had unwound the blanket from her son and pushed it across the table towards Jackson. “You'll need that if you hope to convince Sam of the truth.”

Jackson picked up the blanket, his thumb running along the darker colored edge, seeing in his mind's eye his first wife sitting, heavily pregnant, knitting in the final days of her pregnancy, extolling the color as it reminded her of a flower that grew near the house they rented and would be blooming when her child arrived. 

“Dad must have told Abigail about Nia and Connor. How she found out Connor was still alive was anyone's guess, but she made sure that Connor was at the island, maybe Abigail's scheming goes back further than any of us imagined.”

“It is positively machiavellian in scope,” Mitch added. “None of us were remotely aware of how deep this all went.”

“Not even me!” Jackson burst out, tears at his remembered loss sliding down his cheeks. “Now I have a son who doesn't know who he really is, but who blames me for the loss of his parents and Abigail, and I have a grandson, a miracle child that could save the human race.” He raised his head and looked directly at Clem and Samuel.

“Welcome to the family, Clem.”

Sam was sitting up in the cage, cross-legged, obviously fully recovered from the anesthetic, his face pulled into a sullen scowl. 

Abe was working at one of his diagnostic machines when Mitch and Jackson came down the stairs, Jackson clutching the yellow blanket. 

Mitch stopped beside Abe, while Jackson approached the cage and squatted down on his heels to better see Sam. He held up the yellow blanket. 

“Do you know where this came from?”

Sam stared at the blanket then at Jackson. “That's mine. I gave it to Clem for Samuel.”

“But do you know who knitted this?”

Sam nodded his head. “My mother, of course.”

“Yes, well that's the issue. The mother that made this for you was your birth mother, my wife, Nia Oz.”

Sam stared at Jackson, eyes narrowed, looking for the threat implied, but finding nothing. “Fuck off. My mother's name was Naomi Parker. She and my father were Shepherds...”

Jackson was shaking his head. “No. This was knitted by my wife, Nia. She was killed in an anti-government rebel raid on a gas station. Our car was caught in the crossfire, I was knocked out and when I came too, the car was a burnt-out shell and I was told my wife was dead, along with my baby son. This blanket was in the baby bag Nia packed for you. It was obviously taken when someone saved you from the burning car. I thought you were dead all these years along with your mother.”

Jackson hung his head. “Your name is Connor...Connor Oz.”

Sam stared at him in horror. “No. You're lying. It's not true.”

“This blanket is the truth. I watched your mother knit it with her own hands. I laughed at the color, but she said it was perfect for a boy or a girl.” Jackson reached for his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, extracting a creased and folded photograph of himself at nineteen, nearly twenty, and beside him a pretty, dark-skinned girl holding a tiny bundle in her arms. They looked happy. “You were our honeymoon baby, born exactly nine months after our wedding.” Jackson held out the photo for Sam to take. Sam held it gingerly at the edges and quickly gave it back. 

“I don't remember her, or you.”

“No. You wouldn't. I'm glad you were given to nice foster parents, and I'm sorry they were killed with the Shepherds on Pangaea, but I wasn't responsible for that, Abigail was. I didn't make the Razorbacks that orphaned you, Abigail did. If I'd imagined that you were still alive somewhere in the world, I would have moved heaven and earth to find you. You're my son. I'm your father.”

Jackson stayed there, clutching the yellow blanket and the worn photo of his dead wife. “It's the truth and the sooner you come to terms with it, the better for us all. Samuel is my grandson, Clem is Mitch's daughter and Samuel is his grandson.” Jackson indicated Abe. “Abraham is my blood brother, Dariela is his wife and their son Isaac is my godson. Tessa is my partner and Jamie is Mitch's partner. We are all a family, tied by blood and history.” He turned back to look at Sam. “You are tied to us as well.”

Jackson stood up. “Think about it Sam, you can claim your real name and be part of this family, or be someone Abigail created for her own purpose, a weapon to use against me, who knew who you were and still kept your existence from me. Think about everything she told you, was any of it true?”

His talking done, Jackson walked away from the cage and up the basement stairs, his shoulders bowed. 

Abe and Mitch stared at the young man in the cage, then turned their backs and started a conversation about the samples and what Abe had found out so far. 

Later in the day, Clementine came to visit, her father leaving to give her privacy, Abe doing the same but taking the key to the cage with him. 

Clem had left baby Samuel with Dariela and now sat on the basement floor, sitting Indian style and facing Sam.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself, Clem.”

They looked at each other, looking for changes wrought by the shocking revelations of the last day.

“You don't look much like him,” Clem observed, canting her head to the side. 

“You don't look like your Dad.” Sam retorted. Clem nodded.

“I don't, not in looks. I take after my mum.”

“He showed me a picture of my birth mother. I must take after her, I certainly don't look anything like him.”

Clem nodded again. “It goes like that in some families.” She didn't speak again for a minute or two.

“Was any of it the truth, Sam?”

“Some of it was. I do love you...”

“Do you? You were planning on shooting my Dad!”

Sam looked down at the bottom of the cage. 

“I want to believe you, Sam. But I don't know how to trust you again.”

“Ah, come on, Clem. You know me, we've been together ages, and we have Samuel...”

“I have Samuel, he's my baby.” Clem frowned down at her hands. “I'm sorry they had to drug you to take their samples, but if it can help others get pregnant too, that's a good thing, isn't it?”

“The Shepherds didn't think so. They said the world was already overpopulated and that people were destroying the planet.”

“So sterilize everyone? Is that the answer?” Clem shot back.

Sam looked away from her. “I don't know. Maybe. It's not like we can bring them all back. If there was a cure, surely they would have found one in the last ten years.”

“My Dad and Abe will find one. My Dad cured the animals. He'll cure the humans as well.”

“I don't care about everyone else, Clem. I care about us and our baby.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.” Clem retorted angrily, her cheeks flushed. “Pulling a gun on people never solved anything.”

“Says a girl who's never been under threat,” Sam sneered. “You were happy enough to know I had one even if I didn't have to use it.”

Clem made to get up. “This is pointless. When you're ready to talk, let me know.”

Sam crouched in the cage, the side not high enough to allow him to stand.

“I'm sorry, please don't leave. Clem?”

Clem remained standing and turned to go. “I'll go fetch you something to eat. Think of what I said, Sam. These people are now mine and Samuel's family. If you can't deal with that, then we can't stay together anymore.”

With a last glance, Clem jogged up the stairs and left Sam to stew in his unsettled thoughts. 


	12. Saving the World Again

The issue of Sam was the hot topic. Clem was willing to allow Sam to sleep in her room, not in the bed but on a separate pallet on the floor, so he could be near the baby and help with his son's care. It was obvious the boy couldn't be kept in the cage for a moment longer, but he also had to be made aware that any act of violence against any member of the household was grounds for instant banishment. Clem agreed to convey the rules governing his parole, and Sam eventually agreed. Two days in a cage where he couldn't stand up was a great inducement. 

The next few days were tense, with everyone on their guard, but Sam kept his word, his manner much more subdued, his wish to stay free and with Clem and Samuel clear to them all. 

Abe worked on the samples he had, finding anomalies that pointed to an outside agent working through Sam, combined with Clementine's former Glazer syndrome that she'd had as a child, had resulted in the creation of Samuel. It was undecided whether it was a fluke, or predesigned by Abigail, but they now knew that Samuel himself was the final piece of the puzzle.

“He carries a special protein in his blood, a CLM protein. To put it really, really simply it can revive dead cells,” Abe explained.

“So it's like what Jackson and I have in us?” Mitch asked. 

“Yes. But this is even stronger and in this situation would reverse the effects of the TX14 gas that was released. There is a mountain of study on why the TX14 did what it did, but little enough about how to reverse it. With Clem's baby, we could harvest this gene, create a serum that would revive the dormant, atrophied cells in both men and women, and cancel out the TX14 component that caused the problem in the first place.”

Mitch looked at Abe. “That sounds way simpler than I imagine it is.”

Abe grinned. “As I said, I'm trying to put it so anyone can understand, but if I was to go into the nuts and bolts I would take far too long to explain how it would work. Just believe me, with this new information about the hybrids, and Samuel's unique DNA there is a real chance we can do this.”

“How do we find out?” Dariela asked. 

Abe looked around the room at the women, specifically. “We get one of you pregnant.”

“Subtle, Abraham, real subtle,” Mitch muttered.

“The best way to prove the theory though.” Abe shot back, grinning. 

Dariela looked pissed. “Which of us does what?”

“Dariela, you've had a child, so you would be the control. Both Jamie and Tessa have been exposed to the hybrid virus through their partners. Only Jamie has been bitten by a hybrid adding to the effect on her system. I'd need to do a full workup on her reproductive organs to see if that has affected them. Tessa doesn't appear to be affected by her relationship with Jackson, so she will be the best first test case for any serum resulting from baby Samuel.”

The women all exchanged a look, holding a silent conversation before turning to face the men again.

Tessa spoke first. “So. By your reasoning, simply having sex with someone infected, or affected by contact with the hybrids isn't enough to bring about the changes Mitch and Jamie exhibits? You have to be actually bitten for it to affect you? In other words, Jackson hasn't changed my biological age in appearance.” 

Abe replayed her words in his head, then nodded. “Right. You look your age. Bear in mind that when Jackson was bitten, the dog was in the second phase of the defiant pupil infection, not a hybrid at all. If we hadn't managed to suppress the progression of the infection, Jackson would have ultimately mutated into a human hybrid, lost his ability to reason, and become a mindless killer.”

Tessa looked at Jackson, who shrugged. Abe continued.

“Unlike Jamie who was bitten by a fully evolved hybrid as well as being exposed to Mitch's fully evolved hybrid virus carried in his DNA.”

Tessa looked confused but held up her hand when Abe opened his mouth to better explain. “Please, don't explain anymore, I think I get it. So I'm more likely to represent the majority of women at this stage of the game.”

Abe smiled. “Yes. Most people attacked by the hybrids have died. Few would have survived, plus Jamie's injury meant she was pretty much injected by the Razorback straight into her bloodstream, accelerating the healing.”

Tessa looked pained. “Whichever way you spin it, I'm your best bet?”

“Yeah.”

“Fine. What do you need me to do?”

“I need to work on creating the serum, then we progress to a stage one trial and see how you react to it,” Abe told her.

Tessa groaned. “Don't bother with the details, just tell me when and where.”

It took Abe, with Mitch's help, a week to create the serum. Jackson and Tessa slept apart and Tessa took a pregnancy test before the injection to clarify that everything that happened now was due to the serum. They created a comfortable hospital bed for her in the basement, hooking her up to a series of monitoring equipment to detect any changes that appeared in her blood or fluids. 

While this was going on, Dariela contacted Garrison at the IADG to get an update on the hybrid nests and the efforts to control the outbreaks around the world. With Abigail gone, the hybrids, as Mitch predicted, reverted back to normal animal behavior, no longer exhibiting excessive aggression or attacking without provocation. In many places, the Razorbacks filled the top predator gaps left by Wolves which had been driven to extinction by farming and cattle ranching. Hunters were given free license to shoot them if they could find them. The woolly rhino's stopped attacking everything that moved and reverted to mostly peaceful herbivores, even grazing the same areas as the buffalo, creating mixed herds. The vulture hybrids had been reported in the mountain ranges all along the west coast, and in South America, mainly inhabiting the Andes. 

_ ** Spring into Summer 2027, Ann Arbor, Michigan ** _

The world was slowly but surely starting to regain ground in repairing damaged infrastructure and strengthen food distribution. People in outlying areas were starting to migrate to larger towns, rehoming in abandoned houses or vacated buildings. Organizing who could live where and how was an all-consuming effort on the part of what remained of local governments and councils rebuilding their towns and cities. Food production became paramount with everyone making an effort to grow their own with support from government initiatives, anyone growing more than they could consume putting out barrows and stalls offering the excess free to their neighbors, creating food markets where they shared and bartered so everyone had enough. With the huge agricultural corporations in disarray, it came down to the smallholders and private farms to organize together and distribute food to those still living in the cities, fallow fields near to settlements offered for residents to create community gardens, giving their time and effort and sharing the results. A general call for engineers and medical staff went out all over the country, calling up those retired to help get medical services and utilities back up and running, not always on the scale of before, but at least get the lights on in as many larger centers as possible. Solar and wind power, alongside hydropower, started to take precedence, used to run local water treatment plants and get the household drinking water back on, the same with getting sewage treatment plants back up and running with less emphasis on people occupying offices, and more working on the ground to keep things moving. Corporate had no place in this small town regeneration, people more concerned with having food to eat and water to drink, than any interest in the sharemarket or bank interests. Lines of communications were being restored, along with a resurgence of newspapers being produced across the country. Radio regained its popularity while they waited for television to be restored, that project more likely to be put on the back burner until more important utilities were restored. 

Tessa was monitored daily, bearing up under the constant review of her body's reaction to the serum, every possible measure taken to track her progress. When Abe deemed that her body was once more releasing estrogen and progesterone in sufficient quantities, her periods started again, the first step to fertility. With her monthly cycle resuming, she and Jackson were encouraged to come together as frequently as they could stand, which turned out to be a lot. By the time she took her next regular pregnancy test, she was positive. Abe's theory had been tested and proven to be effective. The potential for reversing the human sterility situation was a reality. 

During the months that passed, from spring into summer, the Kenyatta household evolved to accommodate all the people now living there. Clem still occupied the second bedroom upstairs for her and the baby. 

Mitch and Jamie now lived in a trailer home on the grounds, Tess and Jackson in another trailer on the other side for privacy. Jamie had turned the ground around her trailer into a vegetable garden as spring took hold and warmed the ground. Mitch spent most of his days with Abe in the laboratory in the basement, reviewing results, testing and proving theories, and in Mitch's case catching himself up on the latest medical practices. Baby Samuel was no worse for having his blood taken monthly, his growth measured along with his general state of health. Clem was able to continue breastfeeding him as well as introducing solids and he was growing well, gurgling and smiling at the merry-go-round of adults holding him to give Clem some rest. Isaac had graduated from middle school and they were still waiting for him to be able to attend a high school within driving distance. In the meantime, he had a household of very smart adults all keen to help him learn what he needed to know either by using the educational computer games Dariela had invested in years ago, or exploring the library Abe had filled with encyclopedia and a wealth of knowledge. He was often seen helping Jamie, together with Pizza, to weed the vegetables, or he was helping Jackson in the double garage with some DIY project or other. 

Sam slowly integrated with the group, quieter than he'd been before, but ready to offer to help when the call went out. He became a lab assistant for Abe, washing out glassware, or cleaning slides and test tubes ready for the next experiment. Mitch had watched him warily for the first few weeks, not trusting that the young man was sincere, but Sam proved to have an agile mind and was willing to learn. When he wasn't needed in the lab, he gravitated to the kitchen, helping Dariela prepared the meals, chopping the vegetables, washing the dishes, and generally making himself useful and earning the trust he'd damaged by pulling a gun. The longer he associated with the different team members, the more he realized that Abigail hadn't been truthful in her depiction of the people he now lived with. Clem still held him at arm's length but didn't stop him from being involved with the care of his son, baby Samuel a delight to take around and show off. The day dawned when Sam looked at Mitch and Jackson and didn't see them through the filter Abigail had created, but as his family, just as Clem did. Blood tied them all together, and Sam came to realize that with each day that passed. The team noticed that Sam smiled more often, that laughter came to him more readily and he was eager to participate and be asked to do stuff, easing the overall tension in the house. 

_ ** September ** _

Tessa rested her hands on her burgeoning belly, walking slowly from her trailer over to where Jamie sat under an awning in the shade, a jug of something on the table beside her. They were enjoying an Indian summer with shorter days, but still warm and sunny.

“Room for one more?”

Jamie looked up and smiled and indicated the lawn chair beside her. “Help yourself. Want a drink?”

“Please.”

Tessa eased herself down. Jamie passed her a paper fan that Isaac had made, which Tessa instantly wafted back and forth to create a breeze. 

“Garden's looking great. Ducks are doing a good job?”

Jamie looked over her raised bed, several ducks paddling along the rows, stopping now and then to pick off a caterpillar or slug imprudent enough to try and eat holes in the leaves. “Best idea ever. Saves my back.”

“How's the pond coming?” Tessa asked, sipping her drink.

“It's dug and lined. Now they have to wait for more rain to fill it. Sam and Isaac and helping with the plantings, so I reckon it will be ready for the ducks to move in by the end of the month.”

“Hmmm...duck eggs. Crispy duck, duck a la'orange.”

“Tired of chicken already?” Jamie teased.

Tessa turned to look at her. “No. But a bit of variety would be nice.”

Jamie laughed. “It's not that long since we finished up the venison, and before that is was a whole cow.”

“I'm so glad we don't have to eat mince, I think I'd gag if Dariela did another of her one thousand and one ways with mince!”

Jamie laughed again, Tess joining in. The air was warm and buzzed with insects, bees feasting on the autumn flowers bordering the garden, stocking up before winter took over. 

Jamie looked over at Tess's large belly. “How are you coping?”

Tess gave a chuckle. “The nights are the worst. I can't get comfortable. Promise me you'll put your hand up to play guinea-pig next time.”

Jamie shook her head. “If I was going to get pregnant I'd be so already.”

She turned her head to look away, tears pricking her eyes. “If the hybrid goo can shave years off my age, it would have fixed what was broken inside as well. It hasn't, so I don't think that makes me a very good prospect.”

Tess watched Jamie's profile, seeing the glint of a tear roll down the other woman's cheek. 

Not commenting, Tess stroked her hand over her rounded belly and kept her pity to herself. 

_ ** November ** _

They were gathered in the living room, the adults and children together, even Pizza. Down the hallway, in the room that was now the spare room, they heard a muted scream, Dariela wincing in sympathy. Tessa was in labor, had been for hours, but Abe had come out to tell them she was close to the end just a few minutes before. Jackson was with her, everyone else left waiting for the outcome. 

The adults in the room could all count and knew that Tess was early, a good month out from her predicted delivery date. Even with Abe and Mitch to attend, if needed, a premature baby needed specific equipment that Abe's laboratory simply didn't have, and ordering or accessing a pre-natal incubation or a radiant warmer would instantly ring alarm bells. 

“It's gone very quiet,” said Jamie, looking at Mitch.

“Labour can be that way. Abe will let us know soon enough.”

Clem was balancing Samuel on her lap, the infant gripping her fingers, little feet beating a tattoo on her knees. A door opened down the hall and everyone craned to see who it was. 

Abe entered the room, a wide smile on his face. “Tessa is delivered of two, very healthy babies. A boy and a girl.”

Mitch jumped up. “Twins? How the hell did we miss that?”

Abe shrugged. “One must have been hiding behind the other. Tessa is well and Jackson is in shock. Other than that...break out the champagne!”

Dariela ran over and gave Abe a hug before he had to return to the room and take care of the afterbirth and perform a post-natal check. 

There was no champagne, but Dariela popped the cork on some bottles of cider that Abe had been experimenting with, using up the damaged fruit from an orchard nearby. It looked like champagne, even had bubbles but the taste was pure apple, which was fine. Even Isaac got to have a glass and went round the room clinking his against everyone else before taking a sip and screwing up his face in disgust. 

Mitch gave Jamie a big hug. “It worked, sweetheart, it really worked.”

“I'm glad for you, and for Abe. You've saved the world...how many times is it now?”

Mitch laughed. “I stopped counting. Wow. Twins. I'll have to create a whole new series of questions to ask Tessa about her family. Twins!”

He let her go and went to fill his glass again, Jamie taking the opportunity to slip out of the room and out the front door. The cold air made her gasp after the warmth of the lounge. She didn't have on her coat, and wondered if she shouldn't go in for it, but decided she's make do. The sky above was leaden, whether with rain or snow they'd find out before too long. They had already had a dusting of snow, little more than an inch or so, and it soon melted leaving slush behind. She hugged her arms about her and trudged over to the small duck pond enclosure. Unlike the lake nearby, the pond was insulated with a brush fence all around and a brush roof with substantial support overhead. It would protect the ducks from any heavy dumps of snow and hopefully keep the water from freezing completely solid. There were snug nesting boxes around the edge, all double insulated so the birds inside wouldn't suffer from the overnight temperatures. They had already been fed for the day and Jamie soon passed the pond, her feet leading her down the path to the lake beyond. The Kenyata property on West Water Road didn't need to be connected to the town water supply, they had several huge rainwater tanks and a solar pump to give it pressure inside the house. There were septic tanks and soakaways some distance on the downhill side, well away from the lake to avoid contamination. With both the town supplied water, sewage, and power not yet reliable, they used solar panels and a wind turbine to supply electricity for lights, and a diesel generator as a back up in the depths of winter when snow covered everything for several inches. Chopped wood for the fire was stacked three deep against the wall of the house for easy access, gas bottles stored, wrapped in straw, as a last resort.

Jamie found herself at the edge of the lake, ice already deep on the surface, not enough for skating, but give it another month and it would support a person walking on it. The temperature and bleak aspect of the naked trees reminded her it was a year since she'd stumbled into the refugee center behind the barrier, being chased by a woolly rhino and having her first hot meal in days. Compared to those days, she was now living a comparatively normal life surrounded by Mitch's extended family and friends, living in a comfortable trailer home and safe for the first time in years. The hybrid threat was neutralized, humanity was starting to pull itself together and rebuild, and Tessa had just given birth to twins, proving that Abe's serum based on Clem's son could restart humanity back on the path to civilization. 

What more could she ask for? Was there anything she felt could improve her lot in life? Why the fucking hell was she so damn miserable?

Her feet were numb and her nose as well. Her cheeks ached with the cold so she turned around the started to tramp back to the house. A door banged up ahead and she saw Mitch walking towards her, sensible rugged up in a coat and thick boots to protect his extremities.

“Jamie? Sweetheart, you must be frozen?”

She submitted to him hugging her before he tugged her forward to go back to the Kenyatta's. She stopped dead. 

“No. I don't want to go in there, not right now.”

Mitch looked at her for a minute then nodded. “Come on, I can warm you up better in our place.” They tramped across the wet grass, passing the vegetable plot that was all but empty and fallow until they reached the trailer home. Mitch pushed her inside and shut the door, taking off his thick coat and draping it around her shoulders. “Go sit. I'll just turn the heating up a notch or two.”

Only now, in the relative warmth of the trailer did she realize how cold she'd become, her body shivering under the thick coat still holding Mitch's body heat. He returned and saw her pinched features. “Bed.” He announced without preamble, pulling her to her feet and frog-marching her down to their bedroom. There he stripped her down to her underwear and tucked her under the covers, removing his own gear in record time before joining her. 

“Christ, you like an icicle.” He pulled her flush against his bare chest, wrapping his arms and legs about her, Jamie welcoming the heat coming off his body, her own quickly thawing once the shivering stopped. When she was finally toasty, Mitch let go his death grip on her and pulled back a little. 

“Want to tell me why you were courting hyperthermia out there by the lake?”

“I just needed to think.”

It was starting to get dark outside, the short day drawing in quickly plus the threatening clouds had finally decided to drop their load and thick snowflakes were tumbling down turning the world white. Mitch removed his glasses and settled himself against the pillows, one arm behind his head, the other around Jamie's shoulders. 

“I have noticed, you know.”

“Noticed what?” Jamie asked.

“That you haven't been very happy lately. I don't think anyone else has noticed, but I'm kinda tuned in to you and I'm pretty good at spotting this kind of thing.”

Jamie fidgeted a little then settled. “I'm not...unhappy.”

Mitch waited, staring up at the shadows on the ceiling cast by the light from the living room through the half-open bedroom door. Jamie eventually started to talk. 

“I'm incredibly lucky to have so many people that care about me, and I care about them. We've all lost so many of our own family but still managed to create something new out of all the heartache.”

She paused, frowning as she watched his chest rise and fall under her cheek. “We aren't short of anything, we have all we could need. We even have children, which people don't have now.” She bit her lip, feeling tears rise up and choke her. She swallowed hard. “I feel so ungrateful not to be as happy as I should be. I think sometimes I'm going mad because I can't seem to be contented or satisfied with my lot. The more I have the more miserable I feel.” She gulped. “What the hell is wrong with me, Mitch?”

“Nothing is wrong with you, nothing at all.” He gave her a squeeze to emphasize his words. “As far as I am concerned, you are perfect.”

Jame let out a small snort of derision. “Not so perfect. I can't have a child.”

“Do you want a child?”

“I don't know.” Her voice sounded small and vulnerable. “I didn't think I did. I suppose it's like everything, when you want something so badly you can't have it, but when you can't have something, you suddenly want it more than anything in the world.”

“Would having a child make you happy?”

Jamie thumped him. “You don't get it. Since you rescued me my body has changed, grown younger, fixed all the things wrong with me, but despite that, I'm not...that is...obviously something is too broken in me to be able to be fixed.”

Mitch didn't speak for a minute, then his voice rumbled in her ear.

“It might not be you, it could be me.”

Jamie let out a huff. “Duh...Clementine?”

“Maybe the change I went through did something to me that made me unable to have any more children.”

“Would Abe be able to tell?”

“It's pretty much his wheelhouse, being an endocrinologist and all.” 

“So he'd know if it was you or me?”

“Yeah. He'd know.”

“Mitch?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you want another child?”

Mitch let that sink in, the seconds passing. Jamie moved.

“Forget I said that it wasn't fair...” Mitch gripped her hand to stop her talking. 

“Hey, let me give you my answer...When I realized my body was being regressed by the hybrid serum I was both appalled and excited. I have no other children in the world other than Clementine, and I thought I was okay with that. I didn't want to consider trying for another child because I was middle-aged, no long-term relationship in sight and no one wants to be mistaken as a grandpa to your own offspring. So no, I didn't think the chance would come my way again, and I resigned myself to that.”

Jamie moved against him and he held her tight, shushing her. “Wait. I haven't finished.” He waited for her to still. “It never bothered me until I fell in love with you.” He heard her let out a gasp but carried on. “I still think of myself as that middle-aged man and find it beyond incredible that you even look twice at me, let alone have any feelings for me.” He looked down at the top of her head. “You do have feelings for me, don't you?”

Jamie thumped him with her fist. Mitch smiled. “I'll take that as a yes. So now, I'm in a body that is young enough to be able to raise a child, as I did for that short time with Clementine, but this time I would love the woman bearing my child so much more than I did before. I love Clementine, she will always be my daughter, but I also love you, Jamie. I love you in a way that I can't find words for. You are everything to me, and I know I don't tell you enough times, but I love you with everything I have. I would be happy having a brood of little Jaimie's or if that's not possible, I'd be just as happy with one little Jamie to love as much as her mother. If the fates are unkind and it's not to be, I will not stop loving you as much as I do now and will do for the rest of my life.”

Jamie pressed her face against his neck, a sob escaping from her mouth. Mitch twisted to see her face. 

“Hey, don't cry, that was supposed to make you happy, not tearful.”

Jamie let out a strangled laugh. “Infuriating man, these are happy tears, not sad ones. How could I not be happy with such a declaration, it was wonder...ful.” Her shoulders convulsed and she started to cry in earnest, sobbing her heart out while Mitch simply held her and rode out the storm of emotion. Maybe he'd said the right thing, after all.

Mitch came down the stairs to the basement as Jamie was putting her sweater on, Abe's examination concluded several minutes before. She met Mitch's inquiring gaze but could only shrug.

“Abe?”

“Hey Mitch, I'll be ready for you in a sec. Thank you, Jamie. When I get the results I'll discuss our next step with you both. Okay?”

Jamie nodded, flashing Mitch a look that said “Good Luck”, then she left up the stairs. Mitch started to peel off his gear. 

“Anything in the initial exam?” He asked, unlacing his boots. 

“You're a doctor, Mitch. I won't know all the results for a couple of days.” Abe turned to look at his next patient, snapping on a fresh pair of latex gloves. “I can tell you there is nothing superficially wrong with Jamie. Initial diagnosis finds no reason why she can't bear a child, physically. I just don't have all the answers yet to how exposure to the hybrid slobber works, let alone how it is likely to affect anyone, male or female. Now, lay on the bed, and let's get to it.”


	13. Family

_ ** December 2027 ** _

Tessa recovered well after the birth, her twins passing every medical test with flying colors. Jackson had his hands full caring for them all, ably helped by Connor. 

His son had decided, after talking to Clem, that he wanted to take on his original birth name. Having lived with this group of people, seen how they behaved, how they interacted, what they talked about, he realized that he'd been lied to by Abigail ever since his foster parents had died. He didn't regret meeting Clementine, or anything that came after that, but he did regret that he never knew about his birth mother or father. With that self-revelation, Sam reverted to Connor, everyone around him taking on the transition without batting an eyelid, all of them privately congratulating Jackson for getting his son back. Jackson was glad of Connor's help and between them, they formed a bond as close as any they had with everyone else. 

Living on the rural outskirts of Ann Arbour, the house never got visitors so it was a shock when half a dozen unmarked vehicles rolled into the front yard, disgorging a number of armed police officers, plus a couple of detectives in long coats.

Inside the house, controlled panic was sending Clem, Tessa, and Jamie plus the babies down to the basement in a hurry. Dariela and Isaac remained upstairs with Abe, Pizza doing his best to bark the house down as his humans rushed about. On the first floor landing, out of sight but close enough to listen in, stood Mitch, Jackson, and Connor. The police officer pounded on the door twice before Abe unhurriedly opened it and swung it wide. Dariela, with Isaac and Pizza in clear view, stood at the bottom of the stairs.

“Hello, Officers. Is there a problem?”

Faced with Abe's imposing size nearly filling the doorway, the younger of the two detectives reaching into his coat to produce identification and a badge. 

“Abraham Kenyatta? My name is Detective Logan Hale. Can I come in?”

“What is this all about?” Abe asked, eyeing the phalanx of heavily armed officers still standing in his yard. 

Detective Hale looked at his men, then back at Abe. “Just myself and Detective Hartley, Dr. Kenyatta. If you would allow we'll explain it all in private.”

Abe glanced back at Dariela who nodded slightly. 

“Come in, detectives.” Abe stepped back and indicated the front lounge, hoping that there was nothing left out to indicate anything untoward. He shut the front door behind them leaving the rest of the police to wait for the detective's return. 

Abe entered the room close behind the two men, waving Dariela and Isaac forward. “This is my wife, Dariela, and our son, Isaac. And this is Pizza.” The labrador pushed forward sniffing the newcomers. Detective Hale stared at Dariela and Isaac.

“You are one of the last generation?” Hale remarked, smiling thinly. 

Abe waved them to sit, taking a chair himself with Dariela and Isaac standing behind him. The two detectives sat on the sofa, both looking around the room as if for something. 

“What is this all about, Detective Hale?”

“You have new neighbors, across the lake.” He indicated the land somewhere to the east. “They have observed some interesting going's on.”

“You mean they spied on us?” Dariela asked.

Detective Hale nodded. “Something like that. Are you the only people on this property?”

Abe nodded. “Is that an issue?”

Detective Hale ignored his questions. “I noticed you have a couple of trailer homes, who live in those?”

“We have friends to come and visit during the summer. They use the trailers, plus we get travelers passing through who use them.”

“You don't get into town very often?” Hale queried. 

Abe raised his eyebrows. “We are largely self-sufficient here. We have our own water and power supply, plus a septic tank. We have little need to visit the city for anything.”

“And yet, your neighbor has reported you have at least three other men, and three other women who live here on a semi-permanent basis. So I'll ask you again, Dr. Kenyatta, is there anyone else here other than yourselves?”

Abe bristled. “And I'll ask you again, what is this all about?”

“Your wife, earlier in the year, visited the IADG office in Chicago and saw Agent Henry Garrison. Is that correct?”

“I'd very much like to know your source, Detective. But yes, I went to see Agent Garrison,” Dariela answered. “What's that got to do with anything?”

“Can I ask why?” Hale asked Dariela directly. 

“None of your goddamn business.” She told him shortly. 

Hale smiled and glanced at his partner. “Your neighbor also reported hearing and seeing a baby here on your property, as well as a heavily pregnant woman.”

Abe burst out laughing. “These neighbors of ours, do they not live lives of their own? Everyone knows that we are all sterile now. There hasn't been a baby born in the last eleven years.”

“Are you saying they are lying?”

Abe snorted. “I'm saying they should find a better hobby than watching what my family and I do on our own property.”

Hale smiled, thinly. “I'm sure you're right. You are registered as a qualified Endocrinologist. Am I right?”

“I am. Not a lot of use for that these days.” Abe added. “And if I did have a household full of babies and pregnant women, what were you intending to do with all the armed men out there?”

Both detectives shifted uncomfortably. “They are just following protocol.”

“Protocol?” Dariela laughed. “We have done nothing wrong, yet you come armed to the teeth to do what? Shoot up a house reported to have babies and pregnant women in it? Is that what we have to deal with now? It's not bad enough we have no access to luxuries here, we eat what we grow and we work hard to achieve a modicum of comfort while doing so. And yet, on the say-so of some nosy neighbors with nothing better to do than snoop, you come here with an army. My son is one of the last generation, are you going to shoot him too?”

Hale stood up, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “We are bound by law to follow up leads.” His mouth twisted as if he really didn't want to pose his next question. “Do I have your permission to look inside the trailers outside?”

Abe glanced up at Dariela then back at the officers. “If you think it will help prove what I'm saying is true, then yes. I'll just get the keys.”

Abe went over to the sideboard and pulled open a drawer, thankful that he had a master key for both trailer homes. Leaving Dariela, Isaac, and Pizza in the house, Abe shrugged on a thick coat and woolly hat and led the detectives out of the house and over to the first of the trailer homes. Fortunately for the deception, the couples that used the homes never left them unlocked.

Abe unlocked the door and waved the detectives forward. Only Hale stepped inside, surprised to find the interior warmer than the outside, and the lights working when he flipped the switch. 

“You keep these heated?” he questioned. Abe shrugged.

“Of course. Otherwise, they get damp and it ruins the furnishings and they get black mold growing everywhere. It uses energy, sure, but the benefits outweigh the costs in power usage.”

“It looks very...lived in,” Hale remarked coming back to the front door. 

Abe spread his hands. “It's how the last occupant left it. We don't mess about with them, just keep them habitable, like a spare room.”

Hale left the trailer and Abe locked it up again before leading the detective to the next one. Again, Abe waited while the detective checked it out, finding it in the same condition as the other – warm and lived in. 

“I'm almost envious of your friends, the trailers are nicer than my apartment in the city,” Hale observed before walking over to confer with his fellow officer, Detective Hartley.

Abe walked over to his house to join Dariela who stood, wrapped up against the cold, on the front porch. Isaac was peering out of the lounge window watching what was happening. Dariela gave Abe a look and he shook his head fractionally. They turned to face the detectives. The other armed officers were piling back into their vehicles. Hale walked back to stand before the Kenyatta's.

“It would seem we were sent on a wild goose chase. Thank you for your hospitality, Dr. Kenyatta, Mrs. Kenyatta.” He made to turn away, then swiveled back. “You were a former army ranger, Mrs. Kenyatta?”

“I was.”

“And you were part of the team that developed the cure for the animal pandemic?”

“I was.”

Hale looked up at her. “And would your visit to Chicago and the IADG have anything to do with the change in behavior of the Hybrids in recent months?”

“I hardly think so. Henry is godfather to Isaac. I went to thank him for the birthday present he sent.” Dariela delivered her answer straight-faced, no hint that her answer was a complete fabrication.

“I see. I suppose you know Garrison from before.”

Dariela smiled. “I do.”

Hale tapped his bottom lip with one, gloved finger. “And the woman that went with you?”

Dariela shrugged. “Just a friend who was staying with us at the time. We thought we'd make a short holiday out of it.”

“And her name would be?” Hale pushed. Abe stepped forward, crowding the slighter man.

“I think we have been more than polite and cooperative, Detective Hale.”

Hale nodded. “Thank you again, Dr. Kenyatta. Goodbye.”

They watched as he crunched over the snow-covered ground back to his car, the other man at the wheel. As one the vehicles circled the driveway and departed, red tail lights gleaming in the gloomy afternoon light. 

Abe and Dariela cast a look towards their distant, invisible nosy neighbors then went inside. 

“I'm sorry Abe, but we can't afford to stay here for much longer. The weather is forcing us to remain inside for now, but once the weather clears and it gets warmer, I can't expect Tess to stay immured in the house or trailer because the neighbors are spying on us and the police could turn up at any time to search the place.” Jackson glanced at his partner then back at the people around the table. 

“The detective was fishing. He only knew scraps. Nothing concrete,” said Dariela, hugging Isaac on her lap. 

“He knew enough,” Abe chimed in. “He has sources that go beyond just being a beat cop dealing with nosy neighbors. He also confirmed that we were part of the team from ten years ago. Jackson is still on the most wanted list, and Mitch is presumed dead.”

“Not to mention the house full of women and babies,” Mitch murmured in an aside.

“Quite!” said Jackson. “What were they expecting to do with all those armed officers if they only came to find women and babies?”

“Jackson is right, we can't stay here any longer,” said Mitch.

“And where do you expect us to go?” Dariela asked. “This is our home.”

“Mitch and Jackson are both right. They suspect something but are not sure what. We were lucky they didn't ask to search the house. I have a feeling that next time they will bring a warrant to do just that.”

“I agree with Abe, on that,” Mitch added. “And I think I can offer a bolt hole that no one will know about.”

Jamie tugged on his arm and asked him quietly. “Mitch, are you sure?”

Mitch nodded and turned back to the table. “I own a missile silo.”

The words dropping into a second or two of shocked silence, then everyone started talking at once. Mitch raised his hands to shut them up before he spoke again.

“Settle, people. Yes, it is plenty big enough for everyone. Yes, it is fully stocked with enough to last years. Yes, it is within a relatively easy drive from here. About thirty-two hours door to door. Yes, there is a comprehensive medical center and worldwide communications.”

“Is this where you took Jamie after the hybrid attack on the Refugee center?” Jackson asked.

“Yes. I've been living there for several years. It is self-sufficient with access to all the essentials and hidden from prying eyes.”

“Sound's too good to be true,” said Tessa.

“It isn't. It is exactly as Mitch describes,” Jamie told her. “I lived there for several months during my recovery from the hybrid attack. It's perfectly comfortable and spacious with easy access to the surface.”

“What about the missile?” Dariela asked, gripping Abe's hand.

“Decommissioned and removed in the nineties,” Mitch told her. 

“How soon?” Jackson asked.

“How soon before we can leave to go there?” Mitch queried. “How long would it take for you to pack up your stuff?”

Abe finally spoke up. “We will need to take nearly all the contents on my laboratory, and much of what is held in this house. We will need to attach a trailer on every car if we are to move successfully.”

“We could search the vacant farms for trailers,” Dariela suggested. 

“And yet at the same time not attract any attention,” Jackson added.

“We'll need chains for all of us, and what about the cure for sterility?”

Everyone turned to look at Abe.

“I can print out my notes including the formula and samples. We would probably have to bypass Chicago on our way west, so we can drop it off to Garrison. Our parting gift to the world.” Abe glanced at Mitch, then Jackson. “Are we agreed?”

The vote was unanimous. 

_ ** January 2028 ** _

It took two weeks to pack up everything they were going to take. They found three trailers in different states of repair from the surrounding properties and Jackson, with Connors's help, fixed and modified them to carry as much as possible. The vehicles were all checked and serviced, chains fixed and roof-racks strengthened. Abe's laboratory was carefully packed and crated up, taking up most of one of the trailers. All the soft furnishing in the house and trailer homes was taken, all bedding, rugs, cushions, and pillows. All clothing was taken, packed around the kitchenware and foodstuffs. The only items not taken were the large pieces of furniture like the sofa and bed bases, the dining table, and chairs broken down and packed along with everything not nailed down. Even the birds were going with them, carried in cages with straw bedding, their chicken coop and duck housing broken down to be taken as well. Nothing was left behind that could be found a corner for. Jackson had even had time to fashion safety capsules for the babies, using stuffing from the sofa cushions to create padding and securing them to the back seat of their vehicle using webbing. Mitch packed any overflow from the Jackson's into their car, allowing them to have space for what the babies and Tessa needed close at hand. 

At last, they were ready to hit the road. All of what they'd been doing outside of the house had been hidden from the nosy neighbors by dint of using a new door to exit the house and a different driveway to access the property. 

The weather had been clear for days, but a front was advancing on the area and promising a dump of snow. If they left that night, the snow would cover their tracks, allowing them a clean get-away and a head start on anyone still watching. It was planned they would travel the four hours to Chicago, then Dariel and Abe would visit Garrison at the IADG office to drop off the case containing their research, results, and samples. With that done and their conscience appeased, they would drive back and meet up with the others before continuing on to their first stop, somewhere outside Des Moines, Iowa. The trip would not be comfortable and take the best part of three days, but they were well prepared and determined to remove themselves from the equation. When the news about the cure was released, they intended to be off the grid and out of the hands of anyone thinking they could exploit them.

“You have everything you need here,” Abe patted the crate. “All my notes, all the information needed to formulate the cure for human sterility.”

Henry Garrison stared at the large box as if it held the holy grail. 

“You have proof?”

Abe nodded. “All here for your scientist to check and double-check. If they follow my guidelines, they will be able to create a viable embryo inside a fertile womb within less than six months.”

“Good, God!” Garrison stared at the tall, black man and the woman at his side. “You did this alone?”

Abe and Dariela exchanged a smug look. 

“Nope,” said Abe. “Let's just say we got the band back together and leave it at that.”

Garrison was speechless and Dariela giggled at his expression. “You could say we saved the world...again. In fact, I think that's actually three you owe us.”

“Three?”

Dariela held up her fingers. “First...the cure for the defiant pupil and animal mutations. Two...we disposed of Abigail for you and the hybrids reverted to ordinary animal behavior. Three...you have a cure to start populating the earth again. Let us hope you all do a better job this time and not bring us to the brink of annihilation again.”

Their job done, Dariela linked her arm with her husband and they turned to leave. Garrison hurriedly collected himself. “Where are you going?”

Dariela turned to look at the IADG Agent over her shoulder. 

“Somewhere you won't be able to find us.” Then she winked before turning away and walking with Abe out of the office. 

They met up with the others, hitched up their trailer and the convoy set off, heading south and west across country to reach their first overnight stop. 

The radio on the dashboard squawked. “Car fifty-four here, come in Agent ninety-nine, over?”

“Mission Accomplished, over?”

“Great news. No tails, over?”

“Clean and clear. Over.”

The three vehicles were all of them painted white, including the canvas covering the loads on the roof-racks and in the trailers, so that in the monochrome landscape, they were nearly invisible.

Their first stop found them driving into a heavily wooded area off route sixty-five, the vehicles well camouflaged among the drifts and tree trunks. Abe, in the lead car with Dariela, Isaac, and Pizza, left his wife and son behind to keep warm while he visited the other two with the dog at his heels. He tapped on the first driver's side window.

“Hey, Mitch. Everyone okay?”

Mitch only cracked the window enough to speak. “We're all fine here, Abe. Clem and bub are snug. How long are we stopping for?”

“Just long enough to get some rest, then the second drivers can take over and we'll push on.”

“All good.” Mitch shut the window when Abe gave him a thumbs up. 

In the third car, Jackson did the same when Abe approached. He had Tessa, the twins, and Connor on board with him, the babies comfortable ensconced in their homemade baby capsules, Connor sitting in the middle between them.

“Three hour's folks, then we're back on the road. Everyone okay?”

“We're all fine here, the kids are taking it well. Ask us again in three hours.” Jackson copied the thumbs up from Abe and shut his car window.

Tessa reached down and lifted up the thermos. “Hot chocolate, anyone?”

Jamie stared at the lights of the vehicle in front, the spray from the tires kicking up slush as they moved slowly but steadily along the interstate, Mitch curled up asleep in the passenger seat. She checked the rearview mirror seeing the headlights of Jackson's car, Connor now driving a shift while Jackson slept and Tessa fed her babies. A slight shift and she saw Clem reflected in the mirror doing the same for Samuel who was big now he was nearing his first birthday. Mother and child were wearing their custom-made safety webbing that allowed Clem to remain safe and secure, her child held against her body as well. Jamie returned her gaze to the front, the long stretch of highway empty of any other traffic given the road conditions and time of night. The road had been traveled recently, clear tire tracks straddling the center line clearing a path for anyone that followed, the snow banked up on either side creating a white wall, hemming them in. On her own, she turned her mind to what Abe had conveyed to her and Mitch after he'd finally collated all the results from the testing, ultrasound, and blood tests.

_ ** Two Month's Prior... ** _

Mitch got up to answer the knock on their trailer door, pushing it wide to allow Abe to enter. 

“Phew, that wind is cold. Let me get out of this coat.”

Mitch returned to where he'd been sitting with Jamie on the couch, Abe stamping his feet to loosen his boots before heeling them off, his coat shucked off to hang on the coat rack by the door. In stocking'd feet he padded over to the separate armchair and lowered himself into it. 

“That's better. I won't bother with small talk, because I know you just want the results, so here goes.” Abe opened the plastic file holder he was carrying and started to pull out paperwork, sorting through it for a moment before passing some of it to Mitch. Mitch quickly scanned the pages, then looking up at Abe. Jamie, unable to decipher the medical shorthand or what the figures meant, grew impatient.

“Well?”

“Basically it says that you and I are in the best possible shape for our ages.”

“Okay. But what does that mean?” she pushed. 

Mitch sighed. “There's no biological reason why you haven't conceived. You reproduction..er..equipment is fully functional and looks healthy, falling into all the parameters of 'normal'. The same applies to me.”

Jamie's eyes flickered between Mitch and Abe.

“And?”

“Nothing. And nothing.” Mitch said. “There is no measurable reason why you are unable to conceive.” He turned to look at her, his eyes full of compassion. Jamie saw the look and felt something die inside her. 

“There is a reason, you just don't want to tell me it's my fault.”

Abe leaned forward. “No, Jamie that's not the case. I am an endocrinologist and it is my business to find out why one person can conceive, but another can't. Your body has had a traumatic time. A year ago you were bordering on starvation, undernourished and covered in bruises...”

Jamie flickered an eye to look at Mitch, knowing there was only one person who knew all that, about the state she was in when she arrived at the refugee center. Abe continued. 

“Your body would have been in the process of shutting down to protect itself, then you were attacked and nearly had your hand severed by a hybrid bite.”

“Yes, but I recovered from that ages ago.” She held up her arm showing the lack of even a scar anymore.

“If things were normal I would create a plan, a course of medication to kick start your ovaries into producing estrogen and restart your pituitary gland to start producing the hormones needed to prepare the egg and release it from the ovary. Without those two and other essential hormones, your body doesn't produce or release an egg or prepare the womb to receive it, to put it simply.”

“Is there something I can take?”

“Estradiol is a potent estrogenic hormone produced in the ovaries of all vertebrates. The synthetic version of the compound is used medicinally to treat estrogen deficiency.” Abe explained. “The biggest problem is that we are a decade down the road since infertility was an issue, with all women rendered sterile, plus the drugs used often only had a shelf life of around three years, so even if I raided a pharmacy, anything they had on their shelves would be well beyond its use-by date, making it no longer effective.” 

Jamie let out a harsh laugh. “Is there anything I can eat which might help?”

“There are many foods, nuts, and beans and vegetables that are known to improve the chances of fertilization, but some of them will be in short supply because of the breakdown of food production, but I'll work up a list for you both to use. I'm sorry I don't have better answers for you. In my own research, the causes of infertility are many and varied for both sides of the sexes. Not all drugs or procedures work in every case with everyone. Given the state of the world and how long since the TX14 gas dropped, I'm amazed at Tessa's response, but that might be just specific to her and that point was raised in my notes. Yes, I proved it worked...in Tessa, but that doesn't mean it will necessarily work for every woman it's given too, do you understand?”

“We do, Abe. We do. In the end, it's nobody's fault if their biology is...not able to perform its function. Thank you for not sugar-coating the situation. At any other time in recent history, we'd have every medical process available to help us, just not now.”

“I'm sorry, really I am.” Abe got up and left the rest of the test results on the table for Mitch to read through and pass on to Jamie. Stomping into his boots he pulled on his coat and prepared to leave. 

“It might just need more time, Jamie. I don't know everything.”

Jamie looked up and sent him a smile. “Maybe It's just not meant to be...”

Abe sent her a tight smile, then turned to go, shutting the door behind him.

_ **...Two Months later, Crossing the border into Nebraska. ** _

Abe had been as good as his word, providing her with lists of foods to eat to boost her body's chance of conceiving, but many were simply not available while others were in short supply. Mitch didn't treat her any different from before, his thorough inspection of all the results left them with the simple conclusion that her body was being blocked from producing the hormones necessary to start her reproductive cycle. Jamie kept her grief tucked deep inside, only Abe and Mitch aware of the possible reason if she looked a little down at times. 

  
  



	14. Homeward Bound

The vehicle in front was slowing down and she applied the brakes, careful not to jolt her sleeping passengers. A quick glance at the review mirror told her that Connor was doing the same behind her. Before they came to a complete stop, Dariela pulled off the road, plowing through a snowbank onto a dirt road thickly covered in pristine, untravelled ground. Following the trailer lights, Jamie stayed within the tracks already laid down, the better to disguise how many of them made up the convoy, one of many tricks that had been discussed in the planning stages. It was still full dark but dawn wasn't too far off, so this was a chance for a bathroom stop and firing up a gas element to provide a hot drink and meal. 

“If we keep up our current pace, we'll be at Boulder in around eight to ten hours,” Abe advised them. “We'll use this stop to fuel up the vehicles and ourselves. How is everyone coping?” Abe looked around the group, everyone swathed in cold weather gear with beanies and hoods covering head, gloves protecting hands. Even Pizza was wearing a thick, homemade blanket-coat encasing his body and neck. Clem and Tessa were the only ones not standing outside the cars, each of the others holding a steaming mug of soup while their breaths clouded white in the night air. 

“I'd like us to travel faster,” Mitch groused. “But I guess while the snow remains...”

“We'll stick with the chains until the roads are clearer,” Abe interjected. “It might seem slow, but it's also safe. Our cargo is far too precious to risk sliding off the road or tail-ending each other.”

“I guess we're free and clear now,” Connor remarked, sipping his soup. 

“Never assume.” Abe cautioned. “Garrison is no fool. He'll soon find out from the notes that we proved the theory by applying the serum in human trials. He'll be under pressure to produce that proof, which means we won't be home safe until we reach Mitch's bolt hole and settle in there.”

“That detective wasn't a slouch in the smart department either,” Mitch added. “If he contacts Garrison he'll be in hot pursuit of us as well.”

“But they have no way of knowing where we're heading?” Connor retorted, looking at the others for any hint he was wrong. “Do they?”

“Not that we know of,” Mitch muttered. 

They broke up the meeting and packed up the gear, changing places with the two women, to allow them a bathroom break as well. 

For the next stretch of road they would stay on the interstate eighty, but get off at Kearney, Nebraska, take a short break, swap drivers then head south to meet up with route thirty-four and follow that west to Denver, Colorado.

In the murky light of the morning, the gently rolling hills of pasture and fallow crops of the land surrounding Omaha city, lay buried under snow, giving way to the flatter, empty grassland that flowed into the distance on either side of the highway as they approached Kearney. They pulled off the eighty and found a highway underpass to make a stop before reaching Denver and crossing over to the west. The outside temperature was frigid, the occupants of the three cars taking as little time as possible to do their business on the sheltered side of the vehicles before scuttling back, Pizza included, drivers swapping places and getting underway as quickly as possible. 

They were now the only ones leaving tracks in the snow, traveling the county roads straight south, seeking the minor highway thirty-four in a flat landscape that appeared to be white-on-white including the sky overhead. Mitch was behind the wheel, polarised sunglasses over his spectacles to avoid snow blindness from all the white surrounding them. The sun wasn't out, but the clouds were so high the horizon bled the land into the air with little to separate the two. Black, skeletal trees interrupted the snow cover, icicles hanging from their branches, Hoare frost clinging to long fence lines. In any other circumstances it would have been a beautiful drive through a winter wonderland, but with the possibility of an accident always on everyone's minds, it was a tense drive for anyone behind the wheel. 

Route thirty-four blew through flyspeck rural towns, no longer inhabited with no tracks on the roads or evidence of lights in the slab-sided buildings. If the town had been on its knees before the animal pandemic, it was now abandoned and left for the weather and nature to swallow up. 

Hours slipped by and they left the thirty-four at Yuma, dodged south to join the thirty-six to head west again. At Bennet, they encountered thick fog, shrouding the world around them and reducing visibility to a few meters. 

They pushed on, reaching Colfax, the most eastern edge of Denver city limits and at last saw the low, dark smudge on the western horizon that revealed the Rockies, white-capped and indistinct but closer with every mile covered. 

From Colfax the thirty-six merged with the four-lane interstate seventy, heading north-west towards Boulder, bypassing Denver city central. The huge green signs suspended from poles and on the sides of bridges, pointing to suburbs and off-roads, were blasted white with frost and covered in long icicles like multiple swords of Damocles hanging ready to drop on unsuspecting travelers.

As the highway turned true west the dark smudges on the horizon resolved into low ridges, made small by distance, the white snow caps bright despite the lowering sky. There was evidence that other vehicles had passed before them, but nothing fresh since the last snowfall and no snow plows to build up the drifts. 

At last, with the afternoon drawing in, they were on the Denver Boulder Turnpike and heading north, the Rockies on their left and ahead, Denver city falling behind them. 

The highway rose and dropped, swooping up and down like rollings waves, untrammeled and unmarked, each white vehicle sending up a flurry of powdering snow as it passed, each truck taking a separate lane where possible, back to single lane when the snowbanks closed in. 

They broached a rise and suddenly the start of the mountains was laid before them, the hills stark and covered in snow, a lake off to the right looking dark and ominous. 

As they turned off the highway and started to climb into the foothill, they knew they were near the end, glimpses of the barrier command seen when the road twisted in the right direction, disappearing when it curled back on itself again. 

The access road for Barrier Command showed no recent traffic, the snow chains giving them the grip they needed to ascend higher and higher, the glimpses of the barrier become more frequent and longer, the imposing Command Center looming over the road on the approaches. If it had looked depressing when they left it a year ago, the Command center looked worse now. Until Abigail was dispatched, there would have been a steady flow of hybrid breaching the damaged wall and loping out into the foothills beyond. 

Entering the east side compound they rolled to a halt, spread out, and parked facing the huge, gaping hole in the barrier. Apart from their own tracks, there was nothing marring the thick snow covering the concrete paved area, no vehicle tracks, and certainly no animal paw prints or hoof prints. All the bodies that had littered the ground, the last time Mitch and Jamie had been there, had either been removed or consumed, no evidence now left to mark where they fell. The command center stood silent, the bang of car doors echoing in the gathering gloom.

“Spread out and search the buildings,” Abe instructed. “Move in pairs and see what state the inside is in.”

“The power was on when we were here last,” Mitch advised. “I'll take Jamie and check the power plant.”

“Meet you back at the command center,” Abe called, turning back to organize what they'd need to spend the night.

Jamie followed Mitch as they entered a utility door that led into a dark corridor with doors leading off that. The security office at the entrance provided a master key to be used if the power was down. After trying the light switch and finding it unresponsive, they used their wide beamed torches to find the main control board. One room was the main switch room with dark banks of equipment, a single blinking light showing that the place was on standby. 

“Maybe the place was shut down properly after we left,” Jamie suggested, watching Mitch approach the blinking light, playing his torch over the board before reaching out to toggle a single switch. 

“Given that was a year ago, you're probably right. Let's hope they did their jobs properly.” More lights appeared on the board, then the lights flicked on, taking a second to steady. The sound of machinery powering up could be heard further inside the building and Mitch let out a whoop. 

“Yeah, baby. Come on, let's go see what's working?”

When they exited the building, the others were transferring the babies into the building, lights now dotting the compound casting puddles of yellow circles on the white ground. 

“Way to go, Mitch!” Jackson called out, the two men doing a high five as they passed each other. Jamie shook her head and smiled

“You toggled a switch,” she chided. Mitch grinned back. 

“Sure. But they don't know that!”

They laughed and started to pull out what they'd need for the night. 

They made their base in the commander center itself and the offices leading from that. Bedrolls were made up on the floor and everyone stayed in their coats and hats until the air warmed up. Jackson had gone down to check the heating boilers were working and reported they would take some time to get up to temperature from stone cold. 

Clem and Samuel were playing with toys on a blanket on the floor, his chortles ringing out, Connor soon joining them, his son crawling over to climb his father like a playground obstacle. 

Tessa was sitting in a large, comfortable reclining office chair feeding one of the yet unnamed twins, Jackson holding the other and walking about the room showing the child the different screens flickering into life. 

Isaac was helping his mother layout food items on a fold-out table, taking jugs to fill them from the bathroom taps for use in the coffee percolators in the tiny kitchen off the command room, Pizza watching all the activity from a makeshift bed made up on the floor. Jamie went to search out the other kitchens for more supplies of consumables, Mitch charging her with finding more of the flavor she'd found the first time they were there a year ago. 

Jamie wandered down the hallway, her torch knocking against her hip as she reached for a door handle to see what was beyond it. Finding just another office, she shut the door and carried on. Something banged loudly up ahead and she assumed it was Jackson returning from checking the heating. 

“Jackson, that you?” Her voice echoed in the empty space and she waited for a beat but had no reply. Unconcerned, she carried on checking the room, finding a kitchenette, and ransacking its contents, stuffing the goodies into her backpack before carrying on. A strip light overhead flickered a few times and went out, plunging that part of the corridor into shadow. Not unduly worried she carried on, the hallway coming to an end with a stairway door up ahead. A sound like steam escaping made her jump, seemingly coming from the ceiling, Jamie looked up at the vents at the top of the wall but saw nothing, not even the steam to indicate a leak or burst pipe. 

“Jackson?” she called out, not really expecting an answer, but the sound of her own voice helped to calm her jitters. Pulling open the stairwell door, she glanced up and down the staircase, seeing nothing and hearing only a scraping sound something like the rasp of a nail file but magnified by the empty space above and below. Something banged the next level up and she craned over the railing to see if someone had entered the stairwell but still, she saw nothing, a shiver running down her spine despite the lack of any visible menace. 

“You're just spooked,” she muttered to herself, starting down the stairs to reach the floor below, her boots clattering loudly on the concrete steps, her pace increasing until she was standing in front of the exit, panting after her rush down the steps. Laughing at herself, she reached for the handle then froze. Her senses were suddenly all prickling with alarm, her body shaking in response to a threat she couldn't see, her palms sweating in her gloves as she let go of the door handle and slowly turned around. With her back to the door, she searched the air in front of her. She heard the slithering sound again and the short hairs stood up at the back of her neck, her senses all screaming that she was in danger, but her eyes unable to see the predator stalking her. She closed her eyes to calm herself down, then something flickered against her face, a feather-light touch but substantial and real. Opening her eyes she found herself staring at the blunt snout of a huge snake, the scaly head alone as big as an elephant's. A long black tongue like a split leather strap flickered out to taste her, huge amber eyes regarding her with a fixed stare, daring her to try and escape. She was having difficulty breathing, face to face with certain death, her mind screaming but her voice mute. The head weaved slightly to the side and she stared at the creature's body, the front half easily visible, but the back half was not, a faint outline and shimmer in the air indicating where it continued, hanging down from the railing above. 

The tongue flickered out again, brushing over her clothing, her face, even her hands as if she was a puzzle the creature was trying to figure out. She was shaking all over, her fear so intense her bladder released and she wet herself, the acrid smell drawing the snake's attention, that rubbery tongue flickering out to taste the air again. In her mind, Jamie was screaming for Mitch, for anyone to save her, but her mouth didn't open, her throat closed tight in abject terror. She wondered if it wouldn't be better if she just fainted. Would she awake to find herself being digested in the creature's stomach? Would that be better or worse than being eaten alive? She figured she was losing her mind to be asking such questions and concentrated on remaining upright. The door behind her moved fractionally and she whimpered, someone was trying to use the door with no idea what was behind it. The reptile had been rearing back, lifting its monstrous head on its scaly neck, withdrawing back into the stairwell, but when her body jerked with the force of the door moving behind her, it was suddenly back in her face, the jaws opening slightly to reveal the cavernous interior and her ultimate fate. 

This time she screamed out loud, the sound reverberating up and down the stairwell, echoing and bouncing back from the walls, deafening herself and the snake, who reared back. The door moved more forcibly behind her and she fell to the cold floor, almost insensible, the door bursting open behind her. Hands grabbed her boots and started to drag her towards the corridor, Jamie unable to help herself and suddenly more worried about the embarrassment of being found to have wet herself than the giant snake that threatened her. More hands joined in dragging her free of the doorway out into the hallway and further along, treating her like a dead body.

“I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay...” she repeated endlessly, her voice barely above a whisper, the hands that had dragged her to safety now sitting her upright to lean against the hallway wall. She had her eyes squeezed shut, her gloved hands scrunched into fists that covered her face, her body shaking in reaction. The rescuing hands draped a blanket over her and tucked it around her, Jamie once more focused on spoiling the fabric with her pee than any other consideration. Voices were talking above her head but she was deaf to them, her brain consumed with repeating her mantra although her mouth could only produce a whimper, the words only in her head.

A conversation started up nearby and she found some of the word breaking through the litany running through her head. 

“What was it?” a deep male voice asked.

“A huge, giant-sized invisible boa constrictor.”

“What the fuck?” another, younger male voice exclaimed.

“Yeah, that was my first impression too.”

“What did you do?” a female voice asked.

“Used my voodoo on it.”

“And?” the deeper male voice asked, angrily.

“It's gone to find another hideyhole that doesn't give it a headache.”

“Where's Jackson?” a new female voice asked, panic clear in the tone.

A door banged further down the hallway. “Here. I'm fine. You found the snake?” an older male voice asked.

“You mean the big honking invisible snake that could eat us whole?”

“Yeah. I think I gave it a bit of a headache.”

“Same.”

Jamie sat, shaking on the floor, her eyes now open, gloved hands resting in her lap, but she was staring at nothing, unfocused and unseeing. She saw shadows pass by her, one crouching down in front of her.

“Jamie? It's Mitch, can you hear me?” She recognized the voice but couldn't seem to bring herself to reply. His face swam into her vision, glasses glinting, his lips pulled up into a gentle smile. 

“Hey, sweetheart. We need to get you up and into a change of clothes.”

She flicked her eyes up to his, her cheek flushing painfully, as quickly ebbing back to the white of before. “I pissed myself,” she whispered.

“Of course you did, and nobody blames you for that. We need to get you cleaned up and into some dry clothes. Do you think you can stand?”

Warmth flooded through her from some inexplicable source, lending her strength in her legs like an infusion of warmed brandy. She reached out a hand and he took it, bringing her up to her feet, his other arm going around her middle, keeping the blanket wrapped around her as they shuffled forward. 

“Are you going to shower me again?”

She felt his chuckle through his body pressed against her side. 

“Yeah. I'll try to be a bit more gentle this time. Here we go...”

He pushed open the door to the ladies' bathroom, seeing Dariela approach with towels and a change of clothes for Jamie. She followed them into the room, setting down the other supplies and taking the backpack from Mitch when he removed it from Jamie. 

“I'll leave you to it. Take however long you need, you won't be disturbed,” Dariela told him before leaving, the door closing silently behind her.

Mitch positioned Jamie in front of the shower, turning on the water and testing it. It used a gas instant hot water system and thankfully with the power on could produce endless hot water if required. Turning her like a doll, he divested Jamie of all her clothes then pushed her gently under the stream of water, leaving her to stand while he stripped off his gear and joined her. Jamie instantly wrapped her arms around him and snuggled against his body, Mitch using the shampoo to soap her hair and spread the suds all over her, the air quickly scented with the sweet smell of the herbal cleanser. Under his tender ministration, Jamie let go of her terror and relaxed, listening to Mitch whisper sweet nothings as he massaged her body and limbs, bringing life and feeling back into them and washing away the smell of urine and sweat, the fear washing away down the plughole with the froth of bubbles. She pushed back from Mitch and looked up into his face, his hair flattened by the water, his eyes full of concern and love. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, leaning forward to press a lingering kiss to his chest. Mitch smiled releasing his hold on her to give her space. 

“You're welcome.”

Her hands, that before had been passive now wandered of their own free will, the shampoo employed to smooth over his body, mapping the plains and hollows, creases and textures, and if exploring it for the first time. Mitch leaned back against the shower wall, his arms above his head as Jamie carefully washed every inch of him, his body responding stiffly as she lavished attention on his cock and balls, soapy fingers stroking and fondling, paying particular attention to every part of his rigid flesh. Mitch let her play, stretching and writhing under her hands, breathy moans encouraging her to do what she wanted with him. Jamie turned him to face the stream of warm water, sluicing off the soap and leaving him glistening and wet. Her hand still gripped him, moving slowly to keep contact with his flesh, her lips caressing his torso, suckle on his flat nipples, her free hand combing through the dark hair of his chest then lower, following the trail down to his cock and the dark nest around it. Her fear had dissolved completely, her attention all on bringing him pleasure, her body folding to bring her down to eye level with his sex, knees hitting the floor of the shower even as she took him into her mouth, Mitch lifting up on his toes in reaction to having his pulsing cock enclosed between her lips.

Steam swirled about them, Jamie down on one knee, hands busy between his spread legs, her tongue and lips lapping and suckling sending sparks down his legs, making his thighs tense and belly flutter. 

His climax roared through him, her hands holding him as he throbbed and filled her mouth with his seed, his body shuddering in pleasure, his lungs dragging in moist air as he gave in to his lover's demands. 

Letting go of his softening cock, Jaimie licked and lapped her way up his body, standing on tiptoe to reach his mouth, kissing him deeply, the taste of him on her tongue. 

Mitch reached around her to switch off the water, his hands coming back to cup her face, prolonging the kiss while they stood surrounded by steam.

“You are so fucking wonderful,” he breathed between kisses.

“I love you too,” Jamie replied, smiling as he moved his lips over her jaw and neck. As the steam evaporated they parted and used the towels to dry off, exchanging kisses between rubbing each other down, Mitch bending down to dry her feet and legs, Jamie helping him dry his head and back, paying attention to his buttocks and legs. There was more naked hugging and kissing before the air started to chill and they scrambled quickly into their clothes, those needing to be washed bundled up in one of the towels for later. Jamie used one of the air hand-dryers to fluff up her hair while Mitch cleaned his glasses and rubbed a hand over his scruffy chin and jawline. When they finally left the bathroom, Mitch did a quick mental check, finding no indication that the snake remained anywhere in the command center. He briefly touched Jamie's mind, finding it calmer and the panic receding, more focused on what they'd just done than the attack she'd just survived. 

The smell of cooking greeted them when they rejoined the others, a plate thrust into their hands, the sound of one of the babies wailing as it waited its turn to be fed. Finding chairs side by side at one of the stations, they ate, casting frequent glances at each other, catching a fleeting dimple in a smile, a flash of teeth behind a grin. 

Abe organized a schedule for one to be on watch while the others slept, the incident with the snake putting them all on their guard. Mitch was on for the first watch and he kissed Jamie goodnight before taking up his position in front of one of the surveillance screens, the camera feeds active once more and giving views around the outside of the building. He also had another screen displaying sensors that would trip if there was any indication of movement or heat signature detected. 

Secure in the knowledge that there would be no more surprises, Jamie settled on the thin mattress, still fully dressed, her last view before she gave in to sleep was Mitch smiling back at her, that elusive dimple appearing just for her benefit. 

Jamie sat at the console staring at the screens. She'd been woken by Connor for her stint, the last for the night. Dawn, such as it was, would soon be breaking and everyone would be up to get an early start. Clem wandered in with Samuel in her arms, the toddler awake despite the early hour.

“Teething,” Clem explained, her son turning to stare down at Jaime. He wiggled and Clem set him on his feet, holding his hands while he stomped his soft-booted feet up and down on the vinyl floor. 

Jamie watched them for a while then turned back to the screens, noting the movement of small heat signatures both inside the compound and just beyond the walls. Despite the security lights, there was little enough to see, certainly no evidence of the larger hybrids anywhere near the barrier.

An hour or so later and weak daylight was lighting up the room and people were moving, getting up, and starting on breakfast. Mitch brought her a mug of something hot, the aromatic smell reminding her about her satchel full of finds. As if reading her mind Mitch smiled. 

“Found all the goodies in your bag. You're drinking one of them.”

Jamie breathed in the aromatic brew and wrapped her hands more tightly around the mug. The chill she felt was more imagined than actual, warmth flowing into her even as she thought it. Twisting, she watched Mitch walk away, starting to suspect that these episodes were entirely due to him, making her love him even more. He cared about her, more than anyone had for a very long time. Despite all the weird crap they'd gone through in the past year and even now, he was always there, a constant that she was starting to think she could not live without. When he'd told her about her fugue state at the quarry, she realized that the prospect of living without him was, to her, unbearable, her life worth nothing if he wasn't there. It scared her to be so bound to one person, but it also thrilled her to know that he felt the same way about her. 

And now they were going home. She didn't know when the thought of the silo had become home, but now she couldn't wait to burrow back into it, albeit with a crowd of people she had only met recently, but still, they'd been and done so much since she'd last been there, she couldn't entirely imagine not being around those same people on a regular basis. As it was, their plans were entirely fluid as to how long they'd stay. Jamie hoped it would be forever, but that was just her own dream.

The morning was not far advanced before they were packing up, loading up, and fueling up the vehicles to make the journey beyond the barrier. For Jamie and Mitch it would be covering familiar ground, taking the same route back they used a year ago. They'd been lucky then with the roads still in a reasonable condition, with another year gone by it was anyone's guess what they'd find on the return trip. Mitch led them through the access tunnel and out the still open doorway onto the ground beyond the barrier, the rank growth still bearing the marks of the hundreds and thousands of hybrids that had escaped to the other side using the self-same tunnel. 

They had to cross the wide swathe of open ground before connecting with the maintenance road which in turn led to the main road west, the journey back to Joseph, Oregon underway at last. 


	15. Pursuit

They had been wise to leave when they did. When Abe and Dariela were delivering the cure for sterility to Henry Garrison at the IADG headquarters in Chicago, Detective Logan Hale was slowly driving up to the Kenyatta's home for the second time, accompanied once more with a substantial armed escort and a couple of vans in the expectation of taking away many of the people he knew must be living at the address. 

He was preparing to take into custody the same team that ten years ago, before the TX14 gas drop, managed to cure the animal pandemic, but their achievement overshadowed by what followed. One of the team members, Jackson Oz, had been on the most wanted lists for years, confounded when his image underwent a clean on the internet and Jackson disappeared into the unknown. Hale didn't question the justice of blaming the son for the father's guilt, but it didn't sit well with him. He also suspected that another former member of the team, Mitch Morgan, was likely to be present, despite the reports that he had died on some obscure island off the South American coast. As the reports of his demise were from his own team members, they were suspect, especially when no body was produced. To add the cherry on the cake, Abe Kenyatta was an endocrinologist, one of a range of doctor scientist brainiacs working on curing the effects of the gas drop – sterility. When he added all the crumbs up, he was convinced they all needed to be placed in protective custody or at least seconded to help in the worldwide effort to enable humans to reproduce again. If anyone could do it, the men he was about to apprehend were it, plus he had the bonus of getting Jackson Oz, a definite boost up his career ladder. 

His driver brought the car to a halt, Detective Hale getting out and marching up the snow-covered steps to the front door. He gave them the courtesy of a knock before waving the heavily armored police officer forward with the ram to break the lock.

With the door open, his team swarmed inside, Logan right behind them.

“All clear, sir. They've gone.”

It was clear to everyone that the house was empty, stripped of everything usable, only the larger, cumbersome pieces of furniture left behind. A Christmas tree stood prominently in front of the windows facing the neighbors across the lake, which had been reported assiduously, but somehow the Kenyatta's and their guests were gone.

“Check the trailers, check everywhere.” His breath ghosted white in the cold air of the house, his gloved hands trailing over the surface of a table, finding no significant residue of dust. “They haven't been gone that long, look for anything that might indicate their plans.”

When all the reports were in, it was clear that soon after he'd first visited they had made their plans and packed up the house from attic to basement. The new cut driveway behind the house and hastily created rear exit told him why the neighbors hadn't alerted him earlier to all the movement around the property. They hadn't seen it, it had been carefully screened so that no-one keeping watch on the house would suspect so much was going on behind it. Plus they were good, not leaving a single clue as to where they were going or how many people were involved, not even the number of vehicles they used for their escape. All the tracks found were in single file meaning it could be one, five, or ten vehicles, certainly enough to carry the contents of the house and two trailers away with them. The only clue that surfaced was discarded pails of white paint which he deduced had been used to repaint whatever vehicles they did use to camouflage them. He stared around the property outside and smiled grimly. The recent snowfall had created large drifts and any number of white-painted vehicles could be concealed within a short distance of the house and you'd never see them. He cursed under his breath. He'd obviously underestimated them, badly. Calling the teams to get back on board their transports, he stomped back to his car and threw himself in. 

“Where to now?” his driver asked. 

“Headquarters. I need to make some calls.” He directed the man to use the rear, newly created access way, finding it took them out onto the local county road some distance and completely hidden from the watchers across the lake. 

Back at the Ann Arbor Police headquarters, Detective Hale sat at his borrowed desk and completed his situation report, typing furiously for an hour to include all the details of the raid and what they found. When done he stared at the conclusion based on the evidence, which was little enough. He surmised that apart from the Kenyatta's – Abraham, Dariela, and their son Isaac, there could have been at least six other adults at the property. There was evidence that they'd incinerated their household rubbish, but that had been brought back to hand over to forensics to see what could be found. The house had yielded little, but a fingerprint team had been dispatched to lift as many as possible to add to their pool of knowledge and run against the database.

All of that would take time, so, on a hunch, he rang Agent Garrison in Chicago to see if he'd had any recent contact with former ranger Dariela Kenyatta. 

Garrison reported that not only had he had contact, the Kenyatta's had dropped by in person and left behind the possible, as yet unproven but very promising cure for worldwide sterility. Scientists were testing it even now, but the amazing thing was that Dr. Kenyatta had provided physical proof that it worked. When Logan asked what proof, Garrison clarified. “Twins.”

“You mean actual, living babies?”

“I mean twins, Detective Hale. Full-term living, breathing, healthy children.”

“Who was the mother?”

“No idea, but if I was to guess either Dariela herself or the woman with her, Tessa Williams.”

“Dylan Greene's partner?”

“We all know there is no Dylan Greene, Detective. My sources are as good as yours. Anything associated with the Kenyatta's is likely connected to the original team of ten years ago.”

“I have a fingerprint team going over the house. They will confirm our theories. How long ago were Abraham and Dariela here with you?”

“Two days ago.”

“And you didn't detain them?”

“On what grounds?”

Logan ground his teeth. “Harboring a fugitive? Withholding information of national importance?”

Garrison laughed. “If what they've done pans out, that group of people, whoever is in it, have saved the world again. If they've escaped, I can sympathize. Any woman that has carried a pregnancy to term is going to be put under the microscope and picked apart in every possible way. Would you just sit around and wait for that to happen to anyone you cared for?”

“That's not the point. This is a matter of global significance, they need to be found.”

“Good luck, son. I can only swear to meeting with Dariela and her husband. Anyone else involved is merely conjecturing on your part.”

“I will be in touch when the forensic team has finished their job. Goodbye Agent Garrison.”

“Goodbye, Detective Hale. Good hunting.”

Logan sat at his desk in his Detroit office and scanned the sheets of information heaped in front of him. The fingerprint report forwarded from Ann Arbor had confirmed his early suspicions. The team had reformed, including Mitch Morgan and Jackson Oz once more along with several newcomers, some of them still unidentified. Two of the women had returned hits on the database – Tessa Williams, as expected and a Jamie Campbell. There were also prints from an unidentified man and woman, the Kenyatta's son going by size plus some prints that the lab tech swore were child-sized, as in under a year old size, something that had people, those not in the loop, scratching their heads. 

That made for a group of four adult males, one adolescent male, plus four adult females. And one baby, nearly a year old. That was the anomaly. If the proof of the cure was a recent birth of twins using the new formula, then where did this earlier child come from, if not from the tests Abe was carrying out? 

To add to his puzzle he had a two-day-old trail to find and chase after. With the information he had, he tried to figure out where they would have run to. Investigating Mitch Morgan seemed a good way to start. It was reported he died in South America, but no body was ever produced, so he obviously didn't die, but was taken somewhere by someone and recovered. The man had a daughter, Clementine Lewis, who had passed through the refugee system and been collected by her grandfather, Max Morgan to be taken back to Helsinki, Finland to live. Apparently, she hadn't stayed there if she matched the fingerprints of the unknown adult female. He'd have to find her refugee file from ten years ago to confirm that detail. He'd also check the files of ex-pats returning to the US in recent years, she might have brought a boyfriend with her, which could be the other unidentified male. And if the daughter had a boyfriend, could she be the mother of the infant? Yet to be determined. What about Mitch Morgan? If he'd returned to the states, where would he go? His estate, what there was of it, had been returned to his father, his assets frozen. To claim his money, he'd have to be declared alive again, which hadn't happened, so how did he live? The man was a veterinary pathologist and unregistered doctor, skills badly needed by anyone in any country or state in the world. Over a decade, he could have worked everywhere and rebuilt his finances, allowing him to live anywhere? No. He'd have to keep a low profile, so living in anywhere he could be recognized was out. Unlikely he'd bother with Canada or Mexico, for the same reason. Like Jackson Oz, Mitch Morgan was well known, splashed across all the papers at the time, his supposed death and disappearance of his body headline news at one time. So, somewhere that nobody would bother searching for him, somewhere he could, with a little artifice, blend in and be unnoticed, but where his skills could be put to good use. Had he joined his former teammate and vanished behind the barrier to somewhere on the west coast? Possible. According to the file he'd compiled on Jackson Oz, or Dylan Greene, he'd been working on the west coast for several years with the Pacific Evacuation teams, so what better place for Mitch Morgan to end up, helping out with his medical knowledge to aid the refugee crisis? It made sense, but he had to find a link. If Mitch Morgan had rebuilt his finances what would he spend them on? The Kenyatta's had been under surveillance for years, partly to see if Jackson Oz contacted them, but also for their own sake, given Abraham's doctorate in endocrinology and ongoing research into solving the sterility issue. It was always assumed that if Jackson ever surfaced, he'd contact the Kenyatta's at some stage, and so, it appeared, he had. 

Logan sat back in his chair, his trail, for the moment running cold. At the height of the hybrid threat, when a warning went out for the population nearest the barrier to start heading east, a report passed through his hands detailing a call to the local radio stations from an unknown source warning that a hybrid mega-pack was heading out from the Boulder barrier command, warning everyone to stay indoors or preferably in their basements. What if that someone was Mitch Morgan? 

Reaching for his phone he put in a call to one of the radio stations in Denver to follow that up. When that was done he called Garrison to get a report on what happened at the command center, before and after the hybrids broke through. 

It took him the rest of that night to pull all the strings together to form a cohesive pattern of possible movement but it took Garrison's report about the hybrid threat being neutralized with the death of an Abigail Westbrooke to seal the deal of why Dariela Kenyatta and Tessa Williams approached the IADG all those months ago. A picture was starting to form and it all pointed toward the group he was putting together, the group that had saved the world ten years ago, and now had largely neutralized the hybrid threat and found the cure for sterility. 

Rubbing his eyes he pushed back from his desk and reviewed what he knew. All trace of Mitch Morgan, from calling the radio stations, to the death of Abigail Westbrook to the fingerprints at the Kenyatta's seemed to indicate he had run to ground again. He had probably been working with Jackson Oz in the refugee centers on the west coast, so in all likelihood, he had somewhere he used as a bolt hole over there. The last refugee center evacuated was at Joseph, Oregon, where Jackson Oz had been along with his partner Tessa Williams. Coincidence? Logan didn't believe in them. Some of the refugees, when questioned, had reported being treated by a Doctor Thomas, but no such person had appeared or presented himself at the center along with them. Making a mental leap, Logan assumed that this mystery Doctor Thomas was in fact, Mitch Morgan. If that was the case and he didn't return with the other evacuees, then he had somewhere to stay nearby, because no-one, when asked, said he lived on-site, but drove off each day to somewhere else. Adding up all these inconsequential details, it was clear Mitch Morgan had a safe place to go to. If he was leading his old team behind the barrier, he'd take them to his safe place once more, plus it had to be big enough to house eight adults, one teen, and possibly three infants. A house would be the first stop, but how would one man defend himself against the hybrids in a house? He'd need somewhere secure from the hybrids and easily defensible for a man on his own. A bunker of some sort, maybe an underground installation? Logan yawned, knowing he should be sacking out, but the conundrum tickled his brain and he had to solve it or he'd never settle. What was there near the town of Joseph that was underground like a bunker, secure, and easily defensible? He frowned, an idea popping into his head and unable to be discarded. With all the threat recently of dropping a bomb on the west coast, a plan now discarded, a map had been raised to show if there were any nuclear missiles still commissioned on the west coast, and if they would be used to increase the impact of a bomb being dropped on it to eradicate the hybrids. It seemed an insane idea at the time, but a map was found of all the commissioned and decommissioned missile silos up and down the states enclosed by the barrier. 

Rummaging among the disordered paperwork atop a colleague's desk, Logan found the map and spread it out, running his finger down the line of the barrier until he found the town of Joseph, Oregon, and there, his finger stabbing at the location, was the missile silo, plus an attached, abandoned command center meaning it was a big underground installation.

“Bingo. I've found you.” He jumped about the empty office, the map clutched in his hand, euphoric that he had them dead to rights. 

Heading back to his own desk he sat down and started to tidy up the scattered paperwork and notes. Now he just had to explain it all to his superior and he'd be able to get together a team to go fetch back the runaways and their miracle babies, plus a known fugitive – guilty or otherwise. 

His plan set out in his head, Logan Hale stuffed his folder of evidence and conjecture under his arm, snagged his coat, and finally headed out of the office to go catch some sleep before presenting his case later that morning to his boss. 

“I wouldn't want to try a case based on this collection of guesses and assumptions.”

“I don't need to try it, I just need a team to go investigate it.” Logan stared back at his supervisor, watching him flip through the pages, pause and read then carry on to the next. 

“I'll admit, as a narrative you make it hang together, but apart from a few facts, and they are few, this is a lace curtain.”

“Maybe. But I know that I'm right. People out there need hope, need something to hang on to. If we could bring these people into the public arena, they would show that hope is there for a return of children. They would be hailed as heroes, the children would be famous.”

His boss let out a harumph under his breath. “Maybe that's the reason they fled when they did.”

Logan scowled for a moment then cleared his expression. “At the very least there are a great many unanswered questions about Mitch Morgan and Jackson Oz.”

“Questions?”

“About Jackson's involvement with his father, and for Mitch Morgan about his taxes.”

“Taxes? That's a bit of a stretch.”

“He was presumed dead ten years ago, now he owns a missile silo? Clever move for a dead man.”

His boss glanced at him over the edge of the paper he was looking at.

“You have an answer for everything.” The man sighed and dropped the papers back on the desk, into their folder. “I'll authorize for you to put together a team, a small one. Must all be volunteers and understand fully where they are going.”

Logan jumped to his feet, jubilation flowing through him. “Thank you.”

“Good luck, Detective Hale. I hope you find what you're looking for.”

Gathering up his folder, Logan dashed out of the room, a broad grin blossoming on his thin features.

Within two days he had a team assembled of ten men, including himself as lead detective. The volunteers were fellow detectives and police officers, a couple of swat team members, and a couple of weapons specialists to round things out. They would take three swat trucks with trailers built like army personnel carriers, heavily armored and weaponized. One was much larger than the other two, designed to carry extra passengers, or suspects, depending on the situation they found once they arrived. 

Their quarry had a five-day lead, at least, but as he already knew their destination he could afford to take the time to become better equipped and prepared for the conditions they were likely to find behind the barrier. The team simply understood it was a simple grab and go, dig the unsubs out of their bunker and bring them back. It had been whispered, but not confirmed that there were minors involved, but those details were not clarified, only that several of the unsubs had been positively identified in AFIS with one having an existing warrant out for his arrest, and another suspected of tax fraud. That Logan chose not to fully inform them of all the details didn't worry them much. Since the decline of the hybrid threat, the chance to go on a bug hunt was too good to pass up. There was probable cause, so what more did they need to know?

On the early morning of the third day, they set off from the Detroit Police Headquarters and followed the lead vehicle out onto the snow-covered street heading west. The hunt was on. 


	16. Homestead

The trucks rumbled slowly into the snow-covered compound and rolled to a stop. Mitch activated the remote and the two roller doors started to rise, lifting smoothly out of the deep drift piled against it.

Clem, in the back seat, was staring around, noting the derelict looking house and then back at the roomy garage space. Mitch eased the truck inside, keeping well over to allow the other two to squeeze in beside him. It would be a tight fit, but they'd just about fit, trailers included. He got out and waited until they were in, then toggled the roller doors again, also activating the overhead strip lights. With the clunk of the roller doors settling into their groove, he approached the concealed control box, opening the hidden door and flipping a series of switches to get the machinery down below restarted and activate the lift. 

People were emerging from the vehicles, still swaddled in their cold-weather gear, looking around the shed in some surprise, the inside not as wrecked as the exterior seemed to suggest. Pizza was running from car to car, checking that all the humans that should be there, were, his tail wagging furiously. 

With its usual collection of squeaks and rattles, the lift reached the ground floor, and the solid wall that concealed it slid aside, along with the concertinaed metal door.

“Welcome to the Silo.” He indicated the roomy interior of the lift and waited for everyone to step inside, babies included.

“This is amazing,” Tessa said. “However did you find this?”

“I want to know how this is all still operating when you've been away a year?” Jackson added.

Mitch gave him a look. “They were built to last.”

The lift clanked its way to the bottom, landing with a gentle bump, the doors opening to reveal the rounded corridor beyond, lights flickering on as they walked along it and Mitch started to fill them in on what they'd find. The bunk room Jamie had formerly occupied was claimed by Jackson and Tessa, another similar bunk room across the way taken by Clem and Connor. There were smaller sleeping quarters, presumably for officers, like the one Mitch occupied, so Abe and Dariela sequestered one for themselves and one for Isaac who would have Pizza in with him. The accommodation sorted, Mitch took them on a guided tour while the place came back to life and started to warm up. When the smallest of the group started to complain loudly that they wanted to be fed, the party broke up, Dariela and Tessa taking the babies back to what became known as the Oz suite, to feed and change the infants, while Clem did the same with Samuel, who was dying to stretch his legs and try his new game of bouncing up and down on a mattress while holding Mum's hands, his balance and strength improving each time he got to do it. 

The men, Isaac included returned to the lift, organizing between them the unpacking of the trucks and ferrying the gear down into the living quarters.

Jamie peeled off her coat and left it on the floor while she flopped on top of Mitch's bed, glad to feel her body sink into its welcoming softness. Now she could relax. 

Only essentials for the children, Pizza, and personal effects were carried down on the first trip, suitcases piled up and claimed by one after the other, dismembered cots reassembled and bed linen distributed. Mitch had gone to the control center to check that nothing had been damaged or destroyed in his absence, the mini power plant at the lake still operating and providing the power to keep the freezer containers working at optimum. He fired up the central computer, bringing the security screens online, and saw there was a shit ton of notifications, alarms, and surveillance files for him to review, but for the time being, he just wanted the lights to stay on and the heaters to warm the place up for its new occupants. Once that was accomplished he left the room to find Jamie. 

He found her pottering around in his suite, remaking the bed with clean linen, humming to herself. 

“Glad to be home?” he asked, making her swing around, a broad smile on her face. 

“So happy. You'll forgive me if I say I never want to have to sleep in the truck again, or at least for a very, very long time.”

He grinned. “I hear you. Lucky that's a wish I can grant easily. I might have to make a trip to the lake to check up on the hydro plant, but other than that, we're here for the duration.”

Jamie walked over to him and laid her head on his chest, her arms wrapped around him. “It feels so good to be back. Do you think the others will like it?”

He rested his cheek on her head and hugged her close. “I think they might be suitably impressed. Abe will be needing somewhere to set up his lab, so I'd better go check out a place for him.”

“Hmmm,” Jamie pulled back and looked up into his face. “I guess I'll see about restocking the fridge. Did you bring down any of the boxes with Dariela's kitchen stuff?”

“Left them on the floor in the kitchen.” They pulled apart, sharing a lingering kiss before separating completely. “See you later?”

Jamie nodded. “Guess we're back on silo time again?”

Mitch grinned. “Yup.”

Not required to take the back roads for concealment, Detective Hale and his team made good time, the trip from Chicago to Boulder, Colorado only taking them less than a full day by dint of swapping drivers and not stopping when daylight faded. They did stop at Boulder, connecting with the skeleton team left behind to monitor the command center until the spring when the hole left from the explosion would be repaired. Logan listened to the report from the security officer, noting the footage from the remote cameras, seeing his quarry drive-in, stay overnight, then drive off the next morning. It was impossible to make out who was who due to the cold weather gear they all wore, encasing them from head to toe and leaving little more than their noses to use for identification. It was clear that several of the people appeared to be carrying bundles in their arms, two the size of babies, another clearly a small child. It confirmed that not only did he have the right group on the screen, but the cure for sterility was very obviously true. 

In his blind ambition to achieve the arrest of the decade, he didn't bother to extrapolate what would happen to the mothers and babies once he dragged them back and exposed the team and what they'd been doing. If the doubt crept into his mind that maybe what he was doing was not only dodgy from a legal standpoint, but also from a moral point of view, he banished it from his thoughts, keeping his focus purely on tracking the group to their bolt hole and bringing them back for justice. If a few innocents were caught up in the sweep, well that would be for the lawyers to sort out. 

The first inkling that something was in the wind was from a remote camera he'd placed in the tunnel used to come and go through the barrier. He hadn't expected to be sent an alert so soon after their own trip through the barrier less than a week before, but now a camera view showed three vehicles passing under the camera and heading out into the wilderness inside the barrier. Given the lack of heavy snow in the past few days, the tracks left by his team would still be easy to follow right back to the silo. 

“We have a problem,” Mitch announced, standing up.

Everyone around the table looked up. The dishes had just been cleared from the dining table and they were enjoying a discussion about future projects. Pizza sat on Isaac's feet underneath.

“What's up, Mitch?”

“We're shortly going to have some visitors.”

Everyone erupted, talking over each other until Mitch raised his hands to quiet them down. “I have no idea who, but I can make an educated guess.”

Abe spoke up. “The Detective?”

Mitch nodded. “Right on the money. Seems our ambitious policeman is keen to make an arrest.”

“Who is he planning on arresting?” Clem asked, her son Samuel perched on her lap, a fist stuffed in his mouth to chew on, drool dripping on to his bib. 

“Probably Jackson, but I imagine he won't stop with just him. He may have added up two and two and reached five and decided to gather us all up.”

Tessa spoke up. “We haven't done anything wrong? What's he going to arrest us for? Having babies?”

“That's quite possible. If Garrison told him what Abe and Dariela brought with them, it's not a leap, at least not for someone open to the idea.”

“But we're safe down here, aren't we, Dad?” Clem asked.

“Technically, yes. They'd need heavy machinery to dig us out, but more likely they'll try and smoke us out or something similar.” Mitch told her.

“What about the live stock, do we bring them down here with us?” Connor asked. 

The ducks and chickens had been transported in cages, snuggly surrounded by straw and covered by tarpaulins on one of the trailers. Mitch had moved them down to another secure shed further down the track to create a kind of winter barn set up for them, safe from predators and the weather, the birds settling in to their new roost easily enough. 

“How much time do we have?” Abe asked.

“A day? Maybe two if the weather closes in.”

“For fuck's sake,” Jackson swore, Tessa reaching for his hand and clutching it tightly. 

“What about the garage and lift? Can they break into them?” Connor asked. Mitch grimaced.

“It's possible, with a gas axe and a lot of time or explosives.”

“So what do we do?” Jackson asked.

Mitch folded his arms over his chest. “It won't surprise you to know I do have a contingency plan for just this possibility. There is another way out of the silo, several in fact, other than the lift. If we disable the lift they would need to cut through the floor of it then climb down to get in. We can slow them down by welding the gate at the bottom. There are also some blast doors at regular intervals. They can be shut and sealed, limiting their access to areas of the base.” He went to a drawer and pulled out a series of diagrams detailing the intricate layout of the command center. “First we empty the garage and move the trucks and their trailers to a place further in the forest. We can keep whatever force he has contained to the rooms adjacent to the lift. He will probably bring a similar map of the base and know about the original escape shaft. We need to make that unusable.”

“If you do that, how do we escape?” Connor asked.

“There's more than one. I suggest I lock this place down so it appears deserted. He'll likely have the codes to open the blast doors if he's done his homework, so they won't keep him out of everywhere for long. I can disable the comms so they appear dead, but actually, be on standby. We take what we need, leave the place cold, dark, and lifeless and see what he does next. It won't be comfortable for us, in the short term, but if they accept that there is no one to arrest, they might leave and give up the chase.”

“You think he would?” Abe asked. “He's dogged enough to come this far.”

“True. I'm open to other suggestions if anyone has an idea?” Mitch threw out the challenge, but no-one could think of anything that didn't put the children and themselves at worse risk. 

Tessa spoke up. “Is there no way we can seal off part of the base so some of us can stay down here? I don't like the idea of taking off again in the trucks, so soon.”

Connor chipped in. “We could create a false trail for them to follow. Make it look like we've bugged out, but actually, just three of us take the trucks, while the rest hide here?”

Mitch looked around the table, seeing the acceptance from some of this less drastic alternative. “The blast door leading into the other pod with the gym and food storage could be re-programmed not to respond to the usual code. It will still cool down like the rest of the command center, but if we seed the living quarters with enough evidence that we're gone, it might throw them off our scent.”

“We'll need bedding and light, something to heat stuff up on...”

Mitch let the discussion carry on without him, letting his arms drop so he rested on the tabletop on his knuckles. Soon enough the conversation died down and he looked up.

“All in agreement?”

Everyone nodded, faces looking tense but determined. “Then let's get moving. We have very little time. Drivers, you need to grab your gear and go gas up the trucks.” Mitch started to move from the kitchen, Connor and Jackson behind him. Everyone else started to leave, the kitchen left in a way that looked like a hurried exit by the occupants. 

With the new plan taking shape, they decided not to sabotage the lift, choosing to leave one of the roller doors partially open when they drove the trucks out, so the police team wouldn't try and destroy the door or the lift and making it all look like a hasty decamp. Abe organized to ferry everything they'd need to the gym, setting up sleeping areas in the food storage hall, the door there substantial, and able to be barricaded in a worst-case scenario. Jamie stood in the entrance to the tunnel, Mitch preparing to shut the blast door and seal them in.

“Don't get caught,” Jamie ordered him, tears at the back of her throat making her voice hoarse. Mitch folded her against his body and rocked her. 

“We'll return when we know they're gone and it's all clear.” He cupped her face and kissed her deeply before letting her go. “Stand back.”

Jamie raised a hand in a gesture of farewell. “See you back here soon.”

She waited until the door closed completely, the four-foot deep blast door noiseless on its oiled tracks. Soon Mitch would be shutting down the base back to bare minimum power and it would remain like that until he returned. Above her head the lights flickered then went out, the strip lights glowing for a few seconds before total blackout. Switching on the big lamp torch she carried, she walked back to where she'd left the others. Now they just had to be patient and hope for the best. 

They backed out of the garage making as many tracks in the mud and snow as possible. Whoever turned up at the silo, it would be very evident that multiple trucks had left recently and in a hurry. Mitch led his other drivers, Jackson and Connor down a track through the trees, pausing at the barn to unhitch the trailers and hide them at the back of the building. That done, they drove on, crashing through the snow and dead branches, leaving a clear trail for the cops to follow back to the main road.

“Missile silo up ahead,” His driver advised him, the GPS confirming that their destination was literally around the next bend in the overgrown track. Logan leaned forward, the truck crunching over the remains of a chain-link gate and fence, what remained leaning drunkenly at an angle. Ahead was a couple of buildings, a long, low bungalow with half the roof missing and a tree growing through the sagging tiles, plus a square, squat building with roller doors. 

“Is the area clear?” he asked, another of his team checking the radar sweep.

“All clear, Detective. No movement in the immediate area.”

“Good. Let's move in.” 

The three trucks swept into the overgrown concreted area in front of the house, the boarded-up windows and peeling front door adding to the general air of dilapidation and decay. 

Logan stared at the building. If he didn't know that there was a command center under the ground, he'd think he'd come on a wild goose chase. But sixty feet below the rotting house was a concrete bunker along with the people he had come to arrest. 

“Search the house. There has to be a staircase, a secret tunnel, something to access the bunker below us. Spread out and search everywhere!”

The trucks disgorged their passengers who formed a search pattern, keeping their weapons at the ready in case of a hybrid attack or resistance from their quarry. Logan stepped down from his truck and stood looking around the man-made clearing, saplings sticking up through the cracks in the paving, leafless but ready to come back to life again in the spring. Snow covered the ground, his men in their black uniforms looking like crows against the whiteness around them. 

“Sir?” A shout went up over by the smaller building, so Logan walked over there, seeing for himself that the ground had been churned up by several vehicles exiting the garage, the tire tracks heading off to the west and around the back of the buildings. One of the roller doors was not closed completely, Logan ducking down to enter the space inside, the floor covered in muddy tire tracks from three parked trucks and possibly hauling trailers as well. On the surface, it looked like it was simply a garage, but one of the team members was looking at a section of the wall near the back. 

“What have you got?” he called out, walking over to the man. 

“Looks like a control panel, Sir.” The man found a concealed button, the door springing open, revealing a panel of buttons, a red light blinking steadily. 

“Could just be for the lights?” the man offered. Logan shook his head. “Press some buttons, let's see what it reveals.” 

The panel did switch on the lights but also revealed a hidden door that slid back smoothly, revealing a goods-lift.

“Bingo!” Logan muttered to himself, rubbing his gloved hands when the concertinaed gate slid back and a light flicked on illuminating the empty lift. Satisfied that his theories were all working out, he ordered half the men to remain with the vehicles, and the other half to accompany him down to the lower level. 

The lift settled with a soft thump at the bottom of the shaft. Ahead stretched a rounded tunnel, shrouded in darkness, the torches mounted on the gun barrels swinging around to illuminate the walls and floor. Two of the team scouted ahead, the bulk of the team surrounding him and cautiously making their way forward. At the first junction, the torch lights swung to the left, hitting a round blast door tightly closed. To the right, the passageway stretched into the darkness. Apart from the tramp of booted feet on the metal grating covering the floors, the underground chambers were cold and empty, some showing recent occupation but all of them abandoned in what looked like a state of urgency. They discovered bunk rooms, bathrooms, the kitchen, a laundry, and the remains of a control center, the whole place shut down, dark and silent. Most of the blast doors could be opened manually but the last, down a long tunnel and probably leading into another large space, was shut tight and wouldn't yield despite their best efforts. 

Logan swore under his breath. His quarry might have been on the other side of the blast door, but there was no way to open the door making them out of reach. If he went on just the evidence, he would suppose that the whole lot had bugged out sometime in the last couple of hours, using the vehicles whose tracks seemed to indicate they were fleeing back to Joseph or beyond, maybe even further into the mountain ranges. 

He had found the burrow but the rabbits had fled. 

He gathered his team in the kitchen, a large LED lamp set up to illuminate most of the room, another on the table to shed light over his paperwork. 

“If we take this to be the accommodation and control center of the bunker, then what is behind that blast door is the workings of the underground complex. The machinery needed to keep this place functioning and initiate the launch of the missile in the silo.”

“Is that still there?” one of the men asked. Logan shook his head. 

“Removed in the nineties. There is access above ground and below, but the below-ground access is in the shutoff part of the bunker.”

“Could we access that end through the silo?” another asked. 

Logan pondered the idea. “Unlikely. The silo cap is electronically activated and without power, there is no way we can get it to slide out of the way.”

“No manual over-ride?” one suggested. 

Logan looked at the plans showing the specifications and workings of the installation. “Not that I've found. They didn't want it to be easy for just anyone to break into here, not with a fucking nuclear missile to protect.”

The five men stared at the plans, none of them seeing a way to breach the impasse. Then one spoke up, leaning forward to point at the plans.

“There is an escape hatch...here. If I'm reading this right there are several, but only in that particular part of the complex. If it is still intact we could access that half behind the blast door through the emergency tunnel.”

Logan studied the intricate plans. “Looks like our only option.”

“What about the tracks leading away from here?” one man asked. 

“We'll make this a dual operation. One team to follow the tracks and apprehend the escapers, the other to attempt to access the other half through the escape hatch. Any questions?”

A few were raised but quickly answered before Logan ended the discussion and the team gathered up the portable lights in preparation for returning to the surface.


	17. Siege

It was very quiet in the space that housed all their food and supplies. Jamie stood by the door that led to the main passageway back to the blast door. It had only been a couple of hours, but she was feeling antsy and unable to settle. The other three women were occupying themselves with the children, playing simple games, the chortles of baby laughter sounding every now and then. Isaac and Abraham were seated at a table nearby, a LED lamp between them, poring over a series of maps that detailed the complex workings in this section of the command center. They were all aware that the escape hatch above their heads could allow the Detective and his team to breach their safe space, but it was hoped that it would take them some time to dig out the blockage of soil and rocks created by some carefully places explosives to collapse the escape tunnel for several meters. The other end, letting into a side room near the sewage plant, had been barricaded but it wouldn't hold them out for long. They were all prepared to use Plan-B if needs must, but they hoped they wouldn't have to. Mitch had warned that the missile silo itself was a bleak place to fetch up, but in the event of the police breaking in, it was a final bolt hole for them to use. 

Jamie felt a blunt nose nudge her leg, her hand reaching down to ruffle the velvety ears of the golden retriever. “Hey, Pizza. You bored too?”

The dog whined, pressing his nose against her hand again. Jamie looked down. “Need a bathroom break? Come on, I'll take you.” She turned to call out to the others. “Hey! Pizza needs a walk. I'll be back shortly.”

Abe raised his hand. “Don't get lost!”

Jamie sent him a rude gesture with her finger but he only laughed it off. With the dog at her heels, she walked down a corridor opposite the door to the food store, Pizza padding beside her, his claws ticking on the concrete floor. Having the dog underground had meant making provision for him to have somewhere to do his business. Whoever had meant to live down here before selling it all to Mitch, had either had a dog themselves or intended to keep one with them, so they created a sort of soil and sawdust garden where a dog could take care of nature on a relatively natural surface. It wasn't necessary, but it was nicer for the animal. Jamie played the torchlight over the wooden edged dog park created inside a side room, a plastic dispenser for plastic bags to contain the scat placed by the door. 

“They sure thought of everything,” she muttered, pulling out one of the bags ready to use. Pizza sniffed his way around the entire room before choosing a corner to lift his leg, Jamie not needing the bag after all. 

“Good dog. Come on, let's get back.” She set off back down the corridor, Pizza padding beside her. They were only halfway back when she thought she heard a noise coming from somewhere above her head. Pizza had also stopped and was looking at the rounded ceiling, letting out a soft bark, confirming that Jamie wasn't the only one to hear it. 

“Let's get back in a hurry, eh boy?” Jamie started to jog, Pizza easily keeping pace, the torch beam playing wildly over the floor and walls as they raced back to the others. 

“It looks like the tunnel has collapsed, Sir.”

“Natural or man-made?” Logan asked, peering at the rubble blocking the passage. 

“Could be either, Sir. Could have been from seepage, or a shaped charge.”

“How deep does it go? Can we dig past this?”

“Hard to tell. May be a few feet, could be further, no way of knowing.”

Logan swore and turned away to walk back to the entrance. Back out into daylight, he stomped over to where the other men stood.

“It's blocked and we don't know how far in it goes,” he informed them. 

“Can we dig it out?” one asked, echoing his own question. 

“We could, but space is limited, and if it is a genuine collapse we need to shore up the walls as we go. Either way, it will take up more time and manpower than we have available.”

“It's a lot of effort if they aren't down there,” another spoke out. 

Logan stuffed his gloved hand into his coat pocket. “How much explosive are we carrying?”

The men exchanged glances. “We have some grenades, a little C4...”

“That's it?” Logan queried. The men looked uncomfortable. 

“We weren't expecting to have to lay siege to the place, not given what you told us in the brief.”

Logan muttered expletives under his breath. “If they are down there, why don't we knock a little louder on the door. Maybe they'll decide they don't want to be buried alive and give up.”

He watched as the explosive expert laid a small charge and set it off, then once the dust settled positioned the second, larger charge of C4 near to the existing collapse inside the tunnel. Once everyone was clear, they blew the charge, creating a blackened crater in the ground and obliterating any suggestion that the people, if they were hiding below, weren't aware of their presence.

The second blast rocked the installation like an earthquake, everyone still standing knocked off their feet, the children instantly wailing their distress, even Pizza letting out a high-pitched bark of fright until Isaac quieted him. The babies were soon soothed, but the adults now looked up at the ceiling in trepidation that another blast might be imminent. Jamie had burst into the food store moments after the first blast, warning everyone that something was happening. Now, with the second blast, it was no longer if, but when they would be overrun by the Detective and his goons. 

“Time to go with Plan-B?” Dariela threw out there.

“Take anything you need and tidy up. Isaac, take care of Pizza, as well as his food. We must erase all evidence we were ever in here. Work quickly.”

Jamie helped gather up the bedding while the three other women collected children and baby bags, stocking up on disposable nappies from the store. Abraham filled several backpacks with food, water, and gear, hoisting them over his shoulders before leading everyone out of the food store, shutting and locking the hatchway behind him. Now they trekked further into the adjoining complex, heading for a tunnel that joined the command center to the former missile silo. Another blast door was shut behind them, the long auxiliary tunnel stretching ahead of them. Before he shut the door behind them, Abe used a leaf blower to erase any evidence of footprints leading away from the food store to the silo blast door. If Detective Logan did break-in, he'd find nothing to suggest anyone had ever been hiding out there. Now they all hurried along the tunnel, the lamp lights illuminating the path ahead and bouncing off the rounded walls like erratic spotlights trying to find a target. When they finally reached the end they stood in the area beneath where the rocket would have waited, its huge booster engines like giant cones hanging above the concrete base, ready to propel it into the air and on its way to its designated target. Instead, they were staring up into an enormous tube that stretched far beyond their torch lights ability to see, a number of spider-like galleries winding upwards, open stairs of metal to allow access to any part of the missile the engineers needed to reach. It was dry, which was a blessing, but bitterly cold, the enormous circle of concrete floor disappearing into the shadows at the edges. Cable and pipework wound like enormous snakes, abandoned and discarded, littering the floor, making it a minefield of obstacles to trip over. Abe waved his torch to show that there were workshops and rooms off to the side, directing his small group to one of them. Inside, they found another room off that, and sought refuge there, finding it was formerly a lounge with several dusty couches and a table and chairs. At the side of the room was a kitchenette and wet bar, the taps dry, the sink clean, the surfaces just needing a dust. Dariela, Clem, and Tessa each claimed a sofa, Dariela helping Tessa with her twins, Isaac called Pizza to sit beside him on the empty couch, the boy's arm around the dog's neck for comfort. 

Jamie set her bundles down and pulled over a chair to sit at the table. Abe was doing the same with the food and water, setting them up on the kitchen bench for anyone to help themselves. He sat down opposite her and started to spread out the paperwork he carried. Jamie got one of the lamps alight and placed it for maximum illumination. 

“We are here,” Abe pointed out the place on the schematic plan. 

“Is there a plan C?” Jamie asked. “Is there a way out of here?”

Abe nodded and held up the first finger of his right hand, pointing it to the ceiling. “The metal gantry stairs lead up to the ground level, but only if there is no other way.”

“Sixty-foot stair climb. Shit.”

“One other alternative. An internal stair leading up to a specific hatch opening in the sides. We could hide in the stairwell if we get enough notice, but it will only take one of the babies to cry or Pizza to bark and the jig's up.”

“Shit.”

Abe smiled at her fierce expression. “We could always just give up and go peaceably?”

Jamie glared at him, knowing it was a joke but reacting as he expected her to. “Fuck that.”

Abe threw up his hands in mock surprise. “Figures!”

It was a miserable couple of days for Detective Hale and his team. Unable to break into the second space of the underground command center, they found what comfort they could in the dark, cold, and deserted living quarters. With no power, there was no heat, no lights, no cooking facilities, and no showers, unless you wanted a cold one. On the third day immured underground, his team started to grumble, mutterings rising to open complaints, made worse when no word was heard from the second team supposedly chasing the tail of the escapees in the trucks. The last radio check-in had been over a day ago, the team reporting they were following tire tracks into the hills above the silo, the weather closing in and making visibility difficult. After that last check in...nothing. 

“They've gone, bugged out, escaped, fled...have I missed a word?” one of the men threw into the silence. The other three muttered their agreement, all of them turning to look at Logan. 

“This is pointless. We'll freeze before they come back here.”

“We need to return to the Barrier command. They have power there and food.”

Logan gritted his teeth at their complaints. “Shut the fuck up. All of you.”

“They aren't here, Detective. They left before we arrived. This place is empty and dead. They'll expect us to stay, so they won't come back, if ever.”

“Then we stay,” Logan shot back. “We wait to make contact with the other team, and we wait it out here as well. I'm not going back empty-handed.”

The four officers stared back at the Detective, their expressions mutinous. One of the men broke out his pack of cards and they played repeated rounds of cards until their next meal break. Logan left them to their amusement and wandered the corridors and rooms, brooding. 

Mitch watched the progress of the two black vehicles laboring up the slope of the hill below. They were some distance from the silo now, the three white trucks almost invisible among the snow and bare trees. They had pulled off the road several miles ahead of the police below and now watched them inch closer.

“Do we move again?” Connor asked, barely able to see the black specs without the help of the binoculars. 

“Not yet, they're struggling, the bigger van particularly.” Mitch passed the glasses to the younger man, putting his eyeglasses back on and blinking to adjust his vision. 

Jackson was using his own binoculars, leaning out the diver's side of his truck. “Woah...Mitch, take a look, they've gone over the side...shit!”

Connor handed over the binoculars and Mitch replaced them on his face, checking the stretch of road he'd been watching, only to see nothing.

“Where are they?” he called out to Jackson. 

“Down the bank on the south side. The truck lost traction and went right through the snowbank. I think it clipped the other truck and it followed them over.”

“What do we do?” Connor asked, looking back at Jackson. Mitch lowered the binoculars.

“We go see if they survived.”

When they approached where the trucks had been seen last, they saw the broken snowbank, the tracks from the two vehicles veering deeply into the side and through. Mitch climbed out, followed by Jackson and Connor. They waded through the deep snow to stand at the edge of the road, a trail of destruction leading down the steep slope, broken tree trunks, and gouges in the dirt showing their progress. At the bottom of the slope were the two vehicles, a cloud of smoke and water vapor rising from the crumpled mess of twisted metal. Even as they stood there, figures were crawling out of the broken trucks to collapse onto the snow.

“We have to do something!” Connor cried out, Mitch running through his mind what they had to use for the rescue.

“Get every bit of rope we have and all the canvas we've got!” Mitch barked, the other two running to their trucks to get what they could. 

Minutes later, Mitch and Jackson tied ropes around them and started down the slope to the crash site, Connor left at the top as back up. They carried with them tools and several tarpaulins to use for the injured, as well as spare rope. The slope was steep but they used the trees to help them. When they got close enough they heard the moans and cries of the men still in the trucks, the smell of spilled diesel and burning rubber strong as they approached. 

The first body they found was simply knocked out, a gash on his head bleeding into the snow he lay on. Mitch turned him over.

“Hey, how many of you are there?” 

The man roused a little, blinking up at them. “Fi..ve. Who the fu..ck are you?”

“Can you move, do you have any broken bones?” Mitch asked shortly. Jackson was wading through the powdering snow to the first vehicles, an armored truck of some sort. 

The man at his feet lifted his arms drunkenly, then bent his legs. “No.”

“Good. See if you can use this rope to get back up to the road. Connor will help you but he can't drag you up there. Do you understand?”

The man peered up the steep slope. “Yeah, I understand.”

Mitch left him to join Jackson who was pulling another man out of the cap of the armored car. Mitch helped him lower the man to the snow, checking him over for injuries. No broken bones, but that didn't rule out internal injuries. So far the two they'd seen had been wearing body armor and helmets which would have helped to protect them from being more heavily injured, more so if they were wearing their five-point seat webbing, which was probable. 

They rolled out one of the sheets of canvas and lay the man on it, to keep him dry more than anything. The other man was making his slow way up the slope with Connor pulling on the other end of the rope. They went to the second vehicle and climbed in through the busted back door of the van-like truck, finding three men inside, the one in the back still alive, but the two in the front dead, the front of the truck flattened, killing the men in the cab. They extracted the one still alive and lay him next to his fellow on the tarpaulin. 

“I'll stay down here and get these guys ready to be dragged to the top,” Jackson advised. “You get up there and help Connor.”

“Okay. But try and get clear of the trucks. They could still blow.”

“Will do.” Jackson went to the two men laying on the ground and unrolled another sheet to load one on to, then dragged him further away from the burning wrecks. Once he judged them far enough to be safe, he went back and did the same for the other guy. Mitch, meanwhile, was climbing back up the slope, the going up much harder than the going down. When he reached the top he found Connor and the uninjured police officer sitting on the tailgate of one of the trucks.

“You alright?” Mitch asked the officer. The man nodded, slowly. 

“If you feel up to it, we need to drag two of your friends up the slope. Jackson is wrapping them in canvas now to keep them dry and make it easier to pull them up.” Mitch made to move away back to the edge of the road when a loud explosion blasted up the slope, black smoke billowing into the air. Connor raced to the edge, calling for Jackson. Mitch looked down the slope and saw Jackson waving off to the left, out of the blast area, two wrapped bodies beside him. 

“He's fine. Now grab that first rope and let's get these guys up here.”

Working together, the three of them pulled the first injured man to the top, putting him, still wrapped onto the back seat of the first truck. Then they hauled up the second man, Jackson using the third rope to make his way back up the slope to the road. The second man was placed, like the first, on the back seat of one of the trucks, his condition thankfully no worse than his teammate. The third man, despite his head injury, was still on his feet and climbed into the passenger seat in Mitch's truck.

“What happened?” Mitch asked once the man was belted in. 

“We hit a sheet of ice on that flat bit back there. The truck in front lurched and slid to the side and before we could do anything we were following them. It all happened so fast. Shit...the other guys...Christ, what a mess...”

the officer covered his face with his hands, Mitch concentrating on turning the truck in the narrow road and start on the trip back to the missile command center. There was no point or purpose in keeping up the pretense, the two other men needed medical help, as did the one next to him. Their numbers were now down to eight, counting the men back at the silo, plus they'd lost two of their transports. With no supplies and stuck on the west side of the barrier, they'd need Mitch and the other's help if they hoped to return to Barrier command in one piece. 

Checking his rearview mirror, Mitch watched as Jackson and Connor fell into line behind him, the three white trucks making their slow way down from the ridge to return home.

The trip back to the silo was a lot shorter than the winding false trail going out. They pulled up outside the garage and Mitch activated the roller doors, allowing the two carrying the injured to pull in with space. 

“Can you walk?” Mitch asked his passenger, the man slowly nodding and undoing his seat belt. Once they had walked into the garage, his truck left outside, Mitch toggled the doors to close them and keep out the cold wind, a presage to the snowstorm threatening in the next few hours. 

Between the four of them, they carried the two injured into the lift, supporting them upright while Mitch pushed the buttons to get them heading down into the command center. 

The lights suddenly flickered into life and Logan lifted his head off the tabletop, blinking in the brightness.

“What the fuck?” The realization of what it meant sent him scrambling for his gun. He heard noises from down the corridor and cautiously peered around the kitchen doorway to see what was happening. He saw two men unidentifiable in their heavy winter gear, helping two of his officers into a side room, one of his team still on his feet trailing behind. Further down the passageway, he saw his other men peering around the corner and he waved to get their attention. Using hand signals he indicated for them to close in, as he was doing, to the side room, weapons drawn at the ready. 

“Get them unwrapped but leave off stripping them down. I need to check on their injuries.” Mitch was firing off orders to Jackson and Connor while he took off his thick jacket and rolled up his sleeves, approaching the sink to wash his hands before putting on gloves to begin his inspection. The other officer was sitting slumped in a chair, awaiting his turn. Mitch had his back to the doorway but didn't need to see the men crouched outside to know they were there. 

“Come on in and join the party, Detective Hale. I suggest you put the weapons down, there are oxygen tanks in here and a stray bullet would be unfortunate in these close quarters.” He continued on washing, ignoring the man, gun still raised who sidled into the medical bay behind him. 

“Put your hands up, Mitch Morgan,” Logan commanded, his men crowding the doorway behind him. 

“And if I say no? Are you going to shoot me? Because your men need medical help and I don't perform at my best when I have a gun pointed at me.” Mitch stepped back from the sink, his hands raised to allow the water to drip off before he dried them using an air dryer. He turned his head to regards the Detective, one dark eyebrow raised as he waited for the man to make up his mind. Jackson and Connor had stopped moving as well, the two injured men laying supine on the gurneys waiting to be seen to.

“Well?” Mitch pushed, his face twitched into an impatient expression. 

Logan bared his teeth but lowered his gun. “What the hell happened out there?”

Mitch reached for the latest gloves and snapped them on. “They went off the road. Two are dead and the vehicles are toast. Literally.” He turned to approach one of the beds, wheeling over a metal trolley with implements and surgical tools to start work on the man nearest.

Logan watched, the gun still in his hand but hanging at his side. “Where are the rest of you?”

Mitch glanced up at Jackson, willing him and Connor to remain silent. 

“They're safe,” Mitch informed him, fitting a neck brace on his patient before starting to cut away the clothing of the unconscious man on the gurney. Logan, realizing that Mitch wasn't about to give an inch, turned to the other two. 

“You're Dylan Green, or should I call you Jackson Oz?” he stated. “Who are you?” he pointed to Connor.

“Connor Oz,” the young man stated, glancing at his father. 

Logan looked surprised, then amused. “That's new. So I'm guessing you're the boyfriend of Clementine Lewis?” He waited for Connor to nod. “And you and her had a baby?” Connor nodded again after glancing at Mitch. Logan laughed. “What an incestuous little group you are. You two are granddaddies to his son and your daughter's child. How the hell did that all come about?”

Mitch cocked an eyebrow at Jackson, who returned it with a grin. 

“It's a long and complicated history, but it happened, so what more is there to know?” Mitch peeled back the officer's shirt, seeing blood, and starting his search for its source. “Jackson, I'm gonna need your help here. Go wash up.”

Logan stepped back to give the men room, his team still standing in the passageway, guns hanging relaxed at their sides. Connor took Jackson's coat, along with Mitch's, and bundled them off to the side out of the way, his own joining them. 

“Can I help?” Connor asked. 

“You can start on the other guy and get his vest and helmet off, put a neck brace on before you do, just in case.”

Mitch and Jackson, with Connor's help, worked on the two men, stitching up cuts, cleaning away the blood, and hooking them up to drips and oxygen until Mitch pronounced them stable and stepped back, peeling off another pair of latex gloves and dropping them in a bin. The doorway was full of the patient's teammates, Logan sitting on a small stool watching the doctor work. 

“Will they live?” Logan asked. Mitch leaned against the sink bench, rubbing his hands together with hand cream.

“There don't appear to be any internal injuries, but until they wake up I won't know about the head injuries. Time will tell.”

“Then we're stuck here until we can move them,” Logan retorted. “Seems we are to be strange bedfellows, Doctor Morgan.”

Mitch turned to his helpers. “Connor, stay here with these two and call me if they stir, even the slightest indication they are waking up, okay?”

“But...Mitch?” Connor started to argue but subsided when Mitch shook his head slightly. 

“I need you here.”

“Fine.” Connor leaned against a metal cabinet, his arms folded. 

Mitch turned to Jackson. “Need you to go fetch the others.” He ordered quietly, his back to the detective. “They'll already know we're back, but not what's been happening. Bring them up to date.”

“Will do.” Jackson approached the doorway, the men parting to let him through.

“Where's he going?” Logan asked, getting to his feet. 

“To fetch the rest of the family,” Mitch told him. “But I won't have your men or yourself running around down here with loaded guns, so we need to come to some sort of truce.”

“I'm here to take you all into custody...” Logan started.

“How's that going for you so far?” Mitch interrupted, pointedly looking at the men on the hospital beds. Having made his point, Mitch walked past the Detective and started to inspect the third man, making a cursory inspection of his head before once more reaching for the latex gloves. Behind him, Logan cursed bitterly before leaving the room, his men trailing behind him. 

Abe heard the rapid pattern played out on the pipe, deciphering the morse code until the message was clear. 

“They're back!” He called out, then beat a rhythm on the pipe to reply. It was a simple and effective way to communicate, tested, and proven. He went to the blast door sealing off the missile launch silo and punched in the code, the door instantly starting to grind open on its tracks set into the concrete floor. Before long the gap was wide enough for Jackson to walk through, the two friends embracing warmly.

“It is good to see you again, Rafiki. You are back sooner than we expected.”

“The situation has become...complicated, Abe. Is everyone okay?” He looked past his friend to the women and their children, plus one dog, approaching, torch lights bouncing across the floor and walls. 

“Jackson, thank God,” Tessa breathed, hugging her partner, careful not to squash their baby between them. Jackson pulled back to kiss the woolly-hatted head of his daughter snuggly held inside Tessa's jacket, doing the same for his son held by Dariela in a baby pouch under her coat. 

“Very glad to see you, Jackson. They tried to blow a hole in the roof, which is why we're in here!” Dariela told him, indignation in her voice. 

Clem approached with Samuel on her hip, Jamie bringing up the rear, Isaac at her side holding on to Pizza.

“Is it safe to come out now?” she asked. “Is Mitch okay?”

“Everyone's fine, but things are a little complicated right now. We're going to have to share quarters with Detective Hale and his goons for a while.”

The group instantly erupted with questions, Abe waving them down to allow Jackson to speak. 

“What does that mean?”

Jackson started to lead them out of the corridor and back into the light of the second pod. “I'll tell you along the way, but let's get this blast door shut so we don't lose all our heat.”

Jackson filled in the others as they tramped back towards the command section, the second blast door already opened for them, the weary group returning to their rooms to change and restore their equilibrium after the astounding news of what had happened.

Jackson and Abe approached the kitchen, the room crowded with the six remaining policemen, Logan included, one now sporting an impressive bandage around his head. When Abe and Jackson entered, the room was packed. 

“Hey, guys, everyone okay?” Mitch called out from the back of the room.

“Just settling back in,” Jackson called back, making his way to where Mitch stood. “This is going to make things a bit tight.”

Mitch snorted in amusement. “Yah think?”

“I guess they never expected so many people to live down here.”

“Nope. The bulk of the troops stationed on shift lived up in the house. Not all of them were ever down here at the same time, so yes, things are going to be a little squashed until our guests leave.”

“How long will they remain here?” Abe asked, muscling his way through the officers to join them. 

“Until their teammates are well enough to travel,” Mitch answered, moving to allow Jackson and Abe to reach the coffee machine. 

The women collectively chose to remain in their quarters, with the children, while the rest of the command center was occupied by the Detective and his team, Jamie joining Dariela and Tessa in Clem's spacious bunkroom quarters with the children for the duration until the strangers left. Isaac joined his father and the others to help restock the kitchen and return the goods and chattels ferried to the food store warehouse, returning the linen and clothing to their owners and generally returning the underground complex to its normal state. Logan and his team were given a room as distant from the women and babies as possible, unused mattresses found along with bedding making the room comfortable, the small bathroom attached theirs to use alone. They brought down from their last remaining truck what supplies they had, leaving their weapons up there as part of the truce. Logan still held on to his handgun, not letting on that he retained it either to Mitch or his companions, or even his own men. Now they had to find a way to work around the cramped space, the problem mitigated by access to the expansive gym and entertainment areas, which the officers made good use of. 

The men in the medical bay were improving daily, all of their fellow teammates taking turns to keep watch over them, reporting to Mitch anything that happened during their shift. 

To keep the two groups of people apart as much as possible, Dariela was the only woman to be seen by the police officers at any time. She, together with the guys, took care of the meals for their group, the men often taking their meals in Clem's bunkroom to spend time with the others and the children. 

Pizza was the only member of either group that had the free run of the place through both halves of the underground complex, Isaac or one of the other men accompanying the animal when it needed to use its special room, sometimes going further to give the dog a good amount of exercise. Isaac and Connor were in charge of feeding and caring for the avian livestock they'd brought, currently living above ground. They would drive one of the trucks to the makeshift barn, Isaac holding a dart gun incase any foxes or larger predators decided to investigate. Once there, they parked as close as possible to the door and went inside. Isaac instantly started to collect eggs, one from each clutch depending on the size, if there was more than two, he left one to be hatched and took the rest. With so many mouths to feed the fresh eggs were very welcome. The underground food store provided pretty much everything, but anything fresh was a pure bonus, plus they couldn't allow the birds to roam free so limiting their numbers was also necessary until a secure run could be constructed to allow them outside. 

The only room off-limits to the police officers, the sleeping quarters excluded, was the communication hub, Mitch the only one to have access, locking it up tight after entering and leaving. 

Logan discovered this several days into the truce, time hanging heavily on his hands, his natural curiosity about the people he was trying to apprehend slipping into persistent stalking, Mitch his target over even his interest in the children hidden from him. 


	18. Detente

In the communication center, Mitch was well aware of Detective Hale's inordinate interest in his movement and whereabouts, sensing the man even through the thick metal and concrete walls. 

Seated at the console, Mitch wore the headphones and watched the latest news reports from beyond the barrier, keeping tabs of what was happening to the world beyond the US and also closer to home. Having a channel into monitoring the military chatter, he knew that Logan's foray into the west coast was largely been regarded as a folly, the loss of the young man and the officers with him taken as a sad loss, but no effort was going to be made to recover them. If they turned up safe and sound, all well and good, but if the men never returned, they wouldn't be sending search teams looking for them. All the men who'd volunteered had been single with little or no family to set up a hue and cry for them, and the military had no resources to spare to go off on some hare-brained search and rescue, at least not until the weather was more friendly for traveling. There were already plans on the table to send unmanned drones flying over the west coast to try and map the movements of the hybrids and their impact on the ecology, plus see if there were any indication that people were still living on the coast.

As for the rest of the world, with the hybrid threat reduced from life-threatening to a guarded potential threat only to rebuilding domestic animal stocks, the progress in getting life back to normal was jogging along at a steady pace. There were even some small comments about a potential cure for sterility, although that was largely hidden amongst the military chatter, not on the general news channels, either on the radio or via the television networks still broadcasting. 

His checks all done, Mitch removed the headphones and sat back in his chair, closing his eyes to let his mind send out feelers, within and without the walls of the underground complex. 

Logan was still lurking in the corridor, some of his men in the gym, others in the library, or entertainment center. Abe was in the food warehouse doing an inventory of supplies, Jackson up in the garage working on one of the trucks, Connor with him. Isaac was in the missile silo playing with his pet, burning off excess energy and making noise away from the babies, Mitch's mind was drawn back to the accommodation section that held the women and children, Jamie not among them. She was back in his room, asleep but dreaming, emotions swirling around her. The two men in the medical bay were being visited by one of their team, playing a card game to pass the time. 

Bringing his thoughts back to his present place, he opened his eyes and sat up. Since their arrival there had been little to worry about the hybrids, their presence nowhere near the silo and no longer occupying the house. Smaller creatures had taken to nesting in the abandoned, above-ground house, finding shelter in the attics and among the decaying furniture.

Sighing deeply he shut off his over-sensitivity and rose to his feet, dry washing his face before replacing his glasses and preparing to leave. 

Opening the door, he shut it quickly behind him, engaging the lock before Logan could do more than stand up from leaning against the wall. 

“What's in there, Morgan? Why keep it a secret?”

“Nothing that concerns you, Detective Hale. As soon as your men are healed enough, you and your team will be leaving.” Mitch turned away to walk towards his sleeping quarters. Logan followed.

“You keep the women hidden, why do that? What are you hiding with them? Are the rumors of the children not real, is this all a fake to convince the world you're important again?”

Mitch stopped and turned to face the detective. “One minute you think I'm running some sort of illegal baby factory and keeping them all to myself, then I'm making up a lie to boost my ego. You seriously need to get your story straight, Hale.”

“How did you afford all this? You were dead, your assets frozen, you had nothing, then suddenly you have enough to buy this bunker and equip it with all manner of gadgets. Where did the money come from? Did you pay taxes on it? What crime did you commit to earn enough to buy all this?”

Mitch laughed. “Christ. Now I'm a mercenary assassin? You have quite the imagination there, Detective. You should think about writing a book!”

Logan just didn't know when to quit. “And how about Jackson Oz? You might think you are too slippery to be caught, but he's a wanted felon. The man responsible for the death of the human race in just two generations, quite an accomplishment, don't you think? And just when he's found his long lost son and started another family as well as being a grandfather. When I bring him back they'll bury him so deep he won't see daylight again...ever.”

Mitch had been turning away, but swung around, his eyes flashing fire. “Jackson had nothing to do with that, it was all Robert Oz, not his son.”

Logan looked smug. “Won't matter. Robert Oz is dead and gone but his son? Well, his name will be poison to anyone that claims it.” Logan drew in a breath to continue. “And as for his son and your daughter, they'll be claimed by the scientific community and probably dissected, along with their child and those twins of your...” He never felt the blow, the back of his head hitting the concrete floor and bouncing, Mitch stook over him, grabbing the front of his jacket to lift him off the ground and belt him again. The second punch knocked out a tooth, hands grabbing at Mitch to pull him off before he killed the detective.

“Leave him, Mitch, he's not worth it. Leave him be!” 

Mitch felt the veil of red rage lift from his vision, despite his teeth being clenched and his pulse still roaring in his ears. Jackson was pulling him away from where the man lay on the floor of the passageway, out cold and bleeding from his nose, mouth, and head. The men who'd been in the medical unit burst out of the door, the uninjured officer bending down to see to Logan while Jackson pulled Mitch further away from the scene. Connor was hovering in the background, while, in the distance, Abe was approaching at a jog.

“I heard what he said and he deserved every hit, but you can't kill him. He has to go back, alive and well, or we'll never have any peace.”

Mitch shook off Jackson's hands, holding his own up to emphasize he was back under control again. “There'll be no peace while these men know where we are. They'll just come better prepared next time,” he spat out.

“Then we will go somewhere they can't find us,” said Abe coming up behind them. 

The officer was helping Logan to get to his feet, the man still groggy and accepting his teammate's help back to the kitchen and away from Mitch and his fists. 

“He'll never let it rest,” Mitch told them, hanging his head. “He'll hound us with every breath in his body.”

Abe stepped forward and placed his meaty hand on Mitch's shoulder. “He is only one man, Mitch. We will find a new home and keep our family safe. Our children will grow up happy and protected. They will never be the subject of scientific curiosity or public scrutiny. We won't allow it.”

Mitch nodded. “We might need to get some bigger trucks and wait until the weather improves before we shift all this to somewhere else.”

Abe grinned. “I've always had a dream of driving a big rig, maybe I'll get to tick that off my bucket list after all.”

Mitch sent the giant black man a wry smile. “If we can make that happen for you, big man, we will.”

He quietly closed his bedroom door and locked it, toeing off his boots before padding over to the bed. Jamie lay on her side, the covers pulled up to her shoulder. Pulling off his clothes, he stripped down to skin and climbed in the other side, careful not to jostle her. Setting his glasses on the side table, he relaxed against the pillows and listened to her sleep. 

He hated the thought of having to leave their home again, of having to travel when they'd barely settled in. It would take Detective Hale and his men some time to return to the barrier command, and beyond to return to Detroit. What happened then would depend on what sort of report Logan submitted. One of the reasons the policemen hadn't seen the other women, other than Dariela, and certainly been kept away from the children, so that when they return they'd have no report to give other than about Jackson and himself. Even then, the evidence against them was flimsy at best. With the world only just getting back on its feet, did the justice system really want to waste more men and resources to keep up the pursuit? Unlikely, so they wouldn't be forced to move before the weather made the roads more passable. Until then, they had time on their side. 

The woman at his side shifted and turned over to face him. 

“Troubled thoughts?” her sleepy voice asked. She snuggled into his side and he wrapped an arm about her shoulders, her head coming to rest on his chest under his chin. 

“I've missed you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her head. 

“I missed you too. How much longer are they staying?”

“The injured are well enough to travel and in a couple of days the weather will be fine enough for them to get back to the barrier command without mishap.”

Her hand found his and they interlocked their fingers.

“Good. After they go, I intend to lock you in here with me for a couple of days and make out like rabbits, or until we can't walk.”

“I like the sound of that.” He let out a long, slow breath, his body finally relaxing into the mattress. 

Logan stared balefully back at the people standing in the entrance to the garage to watch him leave. The weather had broken and dawned fine, giving him no further excuse for them not to leave. Force would gain him nothing, the loss of the other men and vehicles left them with nothing to use as a lever. Logan couldn't even truthfully confirm that the women and babies had been present, the only people he and his men could swear to have seen being the ones standing in front of him. Abraham stood with his hands on the shoulders of his son, Isaac, their family pet for once shut up inside. Beside him stood his wife, Dariela, her dark glare enough to wither his manhood if it was possible. Next was Jackson Oz, standing with his arms folded looking unbearable smug to have thwarted the police in their push to blame him for his father's crimes, and finally Mitch Morgan, their nominal leader looking younger than he had a right too, his hands stuck in his jacket pocket, a satisfied and confident smile just barely curving his lips at seeing his enemy vanquished. 

Logan glared back for a moment, then turned away. “Get us the fuck out of here.”

“Yes, Sir.” The officer at the wheel turned a wide circle in front of the garage and the people watching before slowly trundling down the slushy track, bumping over the ruined chainlink gate and back into the leafless forest. Logan looked over his shoulder just before the track curved, seeing the group of people still standing there, watching. 

“Don't get comfortable,” he muttered to himself. “I'll be back.”

They celebrated with a party. Jamie pulled out the fairy lights and decorated the walls, the kitchen and nearby corridors exuding delicious smells of roasting meat and barbeque. Some of the small reserve of wine and beer were brought out to add to the celebration, and everyone put on their most festive party clothes to brighten the place up. With the departure of the intruders, everyone could go back to their own sleeping quarters, doors could be left open, Isaac taking Pizza to run up and down the corridors throwing balls and generally playing while the adults prepared a banquet and danced to music piped through the intercom system. 

Mitch was staring at one of the screens in the communication center, a blinking icon showing the progress of the SWAT truck as it negotiated the roads towards Salt Lake City, getting ever closer to the barrier. Jamie entered the room, a glass in her hand.

“Watcha doin'?” she asked, peering around him.

“I bugged their truck. Just making sure they're leaving.”

“I'm so glad you're on our side,” Jamie purred, pressing a kiss to his cheek before taking a slug from her glass. Mitch watched her chug down the rest, a wry smile on his face. 

“Happy?” he asked, turning off the screen.

“Extastic...ecstaxit...damn happy.”

Mitch laughed and caught her up in his arms, careful of the glass then whirled them both out of the room and into the passageway. They swayed and spun around to the music blaring out of the speakers, Jamie laughing as she stumbled over her feet, caught and held by Mitch into a semblance of a waltz. 

“I'm glad one of us can dance because I don't think my feet know how to walk, let alone anything else.” She giggled and Mitch laughed out loud at her goofy expression and luminous eyes. Clem appeared with her child, Samuel on her hip, dancing with her son, bobbing up and down, the child chortling and laughing, enjoying the ride. 

“Hey, Dad...nice moves!” Clem laughed, Samuel giggling at his grandfather. Mitch dipped Jamie who squealed in surprise, laughing as he brought her upright again. 

“Woah. Warn a girl when you're going to do that!” Jamie exclaimed, pressing herself against him to keep her balance. The track changed into something slow and Mitch held her close, feet barely shuffling, Clem leaving them to enjoy the music, the couple swaying together, Mitch humming along under his breath.

“This is nice,” Jamie murmured, rubbing her face on his sweater, their dance slowing down to nearly nothing more than hugging to music.

Connor appeared briefly to inform then the food was ready, then left them alone, Mitch holding Jamie against him loosely, her head on his shoulder as they shuffled on the spot. 

“You wanna eat?” Mitch whispered, nuzzling her hair. 

“Nope. You wanna another drink?”

Mitch smiled. “Nope.”

Jamie pulled back a little and looked up at him, blinking. “Whatcha wanna do?” she asked, looking adorably muddled. 

“You.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. Let's go celebrate.”

“You did tell them the food was ready?” Dariela asked. Connor nodded, his mouth full of barbeque. 

“Dad and Jamie were dancing,” Clem piped up. “I don't think food was much on their minds.”

“Oh. I'll put a couple of plates aside for them.” Dariela bustled off to do that, a knowing smile on her face. 

“This is nice,” Jamie crooned, flushed and sweaty after a vigorous game of mock tussling with a very satisfactory surrender. Now they lay sprawled on the bed, the covers nowhere to be seen and some of the pillows missing in action. She lay on her front, the length of her back and bottom exposed for Mitch to paint finger pictures on, his hands molding and shaping the rosy flesh, his lips kissing and nibbling every inch he could reach. 

“You taste better than barbeque,” he teased, pausing in his mapping of her skin to press a kiss to her cheek. He lay his head on the surviving pillow and they stared at each other, almost nose to nose. Jamie smiled at him.

“Have I told you lately that I love you?”

“Just once or twice, in between praising my prowess and letting me know you love my dick.”

“I do. So few men know what to do with their dick, but not you. You're a magiclan...a majistercan....you're a smart cookie.” She giggled again at her inability to say certain words. Mitch smiled and gently tugged the hair out of her face, Jamie helping by blowing upwards.

“I love you two,” Mitch replied, thinking her adorable. 

They slept, missing the party still going on outside, but instead enjoying being together, out of danger and safe once more in their home. 

Once he confirmed that Detective Hale and his men were no longer on the west side of the barrier, Mitch called a meeting to discuss their options. 

“As I see it, we have until spring before anyone is likely to bother coming over here to find us. I judge it unlikely that Logan will get another chance after the loss of his men and vehicles, so we are safe for the next couple of months at least.” He looked around the table. Tessa and Jackson held a baby each, Connor holding Samuel on his lap, the child sucking a finger and staring at the adults around him. Isaac sat beside his mother and looked bored, glancing frequently at his dog and wishing himself elsewhere than at the table. His father apparently had the same idea. 

“Take Pizza and give him some exercise, Isaac. I will let you know what is decided later on.” Giving his father a grateful smile, Isaac pushed back his chair and shot off, Pizza barking happily and chasing after him. 

“It is not necessary for him to be here,” Abe told everyone else. “He will do whatever we decide.”

“So, with us secure until the spring, does anyone have any issues to bring up about living here? Or any suggestions as to where we go next?” Mitch sat back down, leaving the table open for anyone to speak. 

“What happened up top with that blast?” Tessa asked. “Are we going to spring a leak?”

“Abe and I went up there to check it out. I don't think leaks are going to be a problem, they used enough in an attempt to clear it that it's now plugged solid. I think it was more of a wake-up call to let you know they were there, or whoever they thought might be down here. There's no visible damage on the inside of the second dome or evidence of damage to the access tunnel from this side, so I think we can assume it's fine.”

“What about the power source, is that still reliable?” Jackson asked.

“I'm going to be visiting the lake to check up on the hydro plant. I thought we could combine the trip with checking out Joseph more thoroughly and seeing what resources there might be for us to use if we decide to leave here. Abe, you wanted to drive a big rig? This could be the opportunity to see what's available and in what sort of condition. We also need to check on the liquid fuels – both petrol and diesel, plus any bottled gas, to see what's being stored, plus it wouldn't hurt to check out the airport and see what's there.”

Clem spoke up. “How long do you think we'll need to hide out over here?”

Mitch sighed. “Jamie and I are not hiding out here, Clem. This is home for us, but I understand that not everybody is going to want to stay on this side of the barrier forever. My best estimate is a couple of years until they start producing babies again and it is no longer such a miraculous happening. I don't entirely know when that would be, and of course, nobody is being held here or on this side of the barrier against their will, but if you choose to return to the east, then you have to realize you will become an instant celebrity with all that entails.” He saw Clem and Connor exchange a glance, Connor shaking his head slightly before they both faced him again. 

“Any more questions?” Mitch asked, sweeping the table. 

“Do we know what is happening with the hybrids?” This time it was Abe asking the question.

“Honestly? I have no idea. I sense them in the area, but there is not the intensity of before, there's no sense of rage or violence in them. If I had to hazard a guess, I'd say that they are no more dangerous than a wolf or mountain lion in their natural habitat. So many were pulled to the east through the barrier that the population left behind is relatively small. Some may return while the barrier remains unrepaired, and it is possible the military will try to force them back over this side, but as for an ongoing threat, they appear to be reverting back to a natural behavior that doesn't involve attacking human's or seeking them out to kill, arbitrarily.” He turned to face Jackson. “Would you agree?”

Jackson nodded. “I've been getting the same impression, Mitch. The aggressive hatred has receded to about the same level as you'd expect from a bear defending her cubs, or a wolf defending its den. As you say, the overwhelming hatred and fear are gone. Without Abigail to whip them into a frenzy they've gone to ground.”

“So now, the only enemy that we have is the weather and running short of supplies?” Tessa remarked. Mitch nodded. 

“We are well set up here, and if it wasn't for Detective Hale, the prospect of moving wouldn't be on the table, but it is still possible that as the world starts to come back to a more normal state, the interest in us will increase. I don't think we are seen as a threat by anyone other than Hale, but we will be the focus of interest simply because of our history and our children.”

Jackson snorted. “Too famous for our own good.”

“Something like that,” Mitch shot back. 

“Do you think people will come back to resettle the west coast?” Connor asked, looking at his son. 

“They might.”

“Then won't they want their houses back?” he asked. 

“Possibly. It will make our choice of somewhere else to live that much more important. While I'm here I have several databases that I can use to establish if a place we find has a current owner or belongs to someone still alive and wanting it back. But I don't think everyone is going to want to return here. With the amount or rebuilding needed and repairs to roads and infrastructure, it could be decades before the resettle this area, maybe longer.”

“So squatter's rights in the meantime?” Tessa added, moving her daughter on to her other shoulder.

“Something like that. If you're happy to leave the search up to me, I'll compile a list of likely places and we can vote on what seems the best.”

“Democracy at it's finest!” Abe intoned, beaming at everyone around the table. 

After that, the meeting broke up and everyone went about their business leaving Mitch at the table, Jamie at his side. She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. 

“You're a natural-born leader, Mitch. I'll miss this place when we have to leave, but I know you'll find us somewhere even better.”

He gave her a wry smile. “I hope so. I sure hope so.”


	19. Best Foot Forward

**_ Spring, 2028 _ **

Soon after the departure of the police and the return to normal life, Tessa and Jackson held a christening ceremony for their twins, choosing the names Rose and Ryan for their offspring, everybody there nominated as honorary relatives like aunty's or uncles, cousins or second cousins regardless of blood ties. 

Their lives for the next month settled into a comfortable routine, February slipping into March with late snowstorms keeping nearly everyone underground. Connor and Isaac still made their daily runs to the barn but didn't hang around longer than it took to feed and water the birds and check the integrity of the building.

Mitch spent a portion of each day checking his news feeds, listening to the chatter, and reading the latest entries offered in the blogs he followed. He also reviewed different towns up and down the west coast, keeping clear of the big cities, but looking for places that might offer a refuge for all of them. There remained some small populations of people still living on the coast, and further inland, radio signals picked up and monitored by the armed forces, giving Mitch an opportunity to map where these small holdouts were living. Most were situated on the coast, scattered communities sustained by fishing or small scale farming, pioneers in a strange new world, the technology reduced to the basics.

Mitch did consider if that would suit his group but figured it would be best, for the time being, to avoid other groups of settlers until the children were older and were not such a surprise to the world at large. So he went back to his needle in a haystack search for the right place to relocate to. 

Given the area that was encompassed by the barrier, it was an almost insurmountable task, but the constant worry that Detective Hale would be back in the spring drove him to search wider and keep at it. He started to trawl through old real estate listings from before the evacuation, having some success in establishing what exactly he was looking for, and a lot of ideas of what he didn't want. One or the other of his companions would spend time with him on his quest, offering their ideas and views about what would be suitable, the pluses and minuses, adding their input, and giving him a wish list that grew longer and longer every day.

“Can I make a suggestion?” Jamie asked when they retired for the night.

“Please. I'm open to anything at this stage.” Mitch continued to undress, sitting on the side of the bed and pulling his t-shirt off over his head. 

Jamie was already in bed, wearing a camisole and a scrap of lace that passed for underwear. 

“We could look at this from another point of view,” she started. “We've all been out and about, looking at Joseph, seeing the local scenery and the lake. I'm rather liking what I see out there. It makes a difference when you're not hungry, wet, and in fear of your life, which is how I arrived here. The town is rather pretty with all the beautiful statues and western-style buildings.”

“Yeah. Got that. What is your point?” Mitch asked impatiently, heeling off his boots, and tugging off his socks. 

“Snarky much? What I am getting at is where we are is a pretty good place, all things considered. What if we made access to here impassable for anyone coming to look for us? We could dig up the road, chop down some trees, and create a sort of moat to prevent anyone from reaching us.”

He tossed his jeans into the corner and pulled the covers back. “We could, but that wouldn't stop anyone simply walking through the woods.”

“No, but if, when they got here they found us, they were stopped by a proper fence, even electrified and more substantial than just chainlink.”

Jamie waited for him to settle. “Kinda like a stockade.”

“So, not only make it impossible for a vehicle to get close but shut off the site with a honkin' great barrier of our own?”

“Yeah. The woods are already full of new undergrowth and saplings with nobody clearing them from the track. A couple more years and they will block the existing road completely.”

“Uhhuh. And how do we move about?” he asked.

“We have a track, like the one you used before, but disguise it better. Camouflage the other end where it enters onto the main road. With the snow melting, we'll leave less evidence of our comings and goings using that entrance instead.”

Mitch contemplated her ideas, his arm bent behind his head. Taking off his glasses he put them on the side table before turning to face her. “I think they are all good ideas, but at its heart, you don't want to leave here.”

“Right. I did think that we might find a house in Joseph, maybe something by the lake so we can enjoy the summer.”

Mitch raised both eyebrows in surprise. “I rather like that idea.”

Jamie turned on her side, warming to her subject. “We could treat it like a holiday for everyone, maybe find a couple of houses side by side, maybe find a boat, go swimming, fishing all those sorts of summery things?”

Mitch smiled. “I'm liking this idea more and more. Not sure about the stockade, but a reinstalled fence wouldn't be a silly idea.”

“We could bring up some heavy equipment to chew up the existing road, effectively wipe it off the map, so to speak, even gets some seeds and sew them in the ground to promote quicker regrowth.”

Mitch turned his head to look at her. “You've been really thinking about all this?”

“I have. I know this place isn't perfect, but think we have a chance here to really lay down roots and start again.”

“We'll have to see what everyone else thinks about your idea, but even if they don't like it and want to go back to living in a house, we...you and I can stay here and just visit the family regularly.”

“Exactly. We would have done that when the world was normal, so no change there.”

Mitch smiled in the semi-gloom. “I'll call a meeting tomorrow and we'll see what the others have to say. Whatever they decide, you and I...”

“Yes?”

“Home is where the heart is, and that's where you are. If that means here? I'm all for it.”

Jamie let out a squeal and threw herself at him, hugging him tightly, kissing every bit of him she could reach while he hugged her back and tried to capture her darting lips to seal the deal. 

“So that's the proposal on the table. No one has to abide by it, but I can tell you that I've looked extensively up and down the west coast for an alternative that doesn't require us to start from scratch, and not found anything to date. Of course, it's been only a couple of months, but I need you to understand, that whatever you decided, this is Jamie and my home and we intend to stay put, come what may.”

Mitch sat down, Jamie's hand finding his and holding tight. They exchanged a brief but heartfelt glance, then waited for the friends to speak. Abe stood up, casting a look around the table to judge what the others were feeling. 

“I think we all need to think about what you've said, Mitch. I suggest we take some time and come back in a couple of days to voice our decisions.” 

He looked around the table again. “Are we all agreed?”

Everyone nodded in agreement and started to get up to leave the table. Mitch and Jamie watched them go, unable to perceive how their friends were taking the new ideas laid before them. 

“Damn. Stress makes me hungry,” Jamie announced, getting up to fix herself something from the fridge. “You want anything?”

“No, I'm good.” Mitch stared off into space for several moments, blindly regarding the grey and pale blue walls, lost in his thoughts.

Abe called everyone together two days later. “I know that you have all been thinking about Mitch's proposition, about possibly living in the local area rather than going further afield. Now I think we all need to talk about it, the good and the bad that you like about the idea?”

Clem raised her hand. “I'd like to say that I like the idea of being close to Dad and Jamie. I'd like to explore the area around the lake and town before deciding where to settle, but I don't see any point in trying to find somewhere further out. If and when the people are allowed to come back to the west coast, it seems to me they'll be most interested in living by the sea, of going back to the big cities, rather than the smaller settlements. So it makes sense if we settle here and keep out of their way.”

“Well put, Clementine,” Abe said, beaming at her. Mitch nodded his approval of her points, then waited for the next one to speak. 

Jackson cleared his throat.“I agree with Clem, in that when or if people return, they're going to gravitate to the coast and revive the cities. There's nothing in the cities for the hybrids, and all the resources they'd need would be there. I like the idea of living here, if not in seclusion, at least without nosy neighbors and a relatively unpolluted environment for the kids. While Joseph won't support us all forever, it will get us started and we can relearn how to be self-sufficient again, so why not here?”

“Good points,” Abe added, nodding in agreement. “Maybe I should ask the question - does anyone disagree with the idea of living in Joseph for the foreseeable future?”

Connor raised his hand. “What if that detective comes back?”

“Good questions. Mitch?” Abe turned to look at his friend.

Mitch leaned forward. “I expect him too. I'll be doing what Jamie suggested, plowing up the road and encouraging the forest to reclaim in, also putting the fence back to rights so not just anyone can march on in. If anyone turns up, there will only be myself and Jamie, on the surface for appearance's sake. If any of you are living with us, we'll do what we did last time. Personally, I think the more time passes the less interest there will be in us all together. I may have to go further afield to find the equipment I need, but I will set up surveillance cameras on all the main roads so we have a warning to avoid anyone surprising us. With the run of the town, we can create any number of bolt holes but also enjoy what the town has to offer. Like any small settlement we need to keep security and safety as a priority, but we don't want to suck all the fun out of enjoying your children or becoming self-sufficient. If they don't have it in Joseph, we'll try the next town, or the next until we create our own haven. In a place this far removed, we may have to deal with looters or opportunists, that is the nature of people but properly prepared we can avoid the unpleasantness and just enjoy everything else. Our own little hamlet, nestled in a nice part of the world.”

“I rather like the sound of that,” Tessa remarked her smile wide. 

Mitch echoed her smile, then spoke again. “With the weather getting better every day, we could take trips to the town and catalog what is there, what can be used, what is available and look into what sorts of houses and farms are usable. Remember that not all the houses will be set up with solar or wind power, or for that matter water or sewage without access to the town supply, so that has to be taken into consideration when you choose. We have time, people. This doesn't have to be decided today or even this week. It will take several trips to get the equipment up here to do what I want to secure this place, plus the more trips mean a better understanding of what will suit us best.”

Jackson smacked his hand on the table. “Sounds like a plan.”

Mitch stood up. “So let me just see if I've got this right. We stay here for the meantime, take regular trips to Joseph to do an inventory and get familiar with the place, get some equipment up here to secure this place, then start looking at properties that might suit us around the town or by the lake?” He looked around the table, seeing a spark of excitement light up his friend's faces. They all stood up, Jackson raising his fist in the air and shouting “Yes!” The rest doing the same with a smattering of applause and plenty of positive vibes. 

Abe slapped him on the shoulder. “I think you can take it your suggestion has been passed with flying colors.”

**_ Summer, 2028 _ **

Jackson and Abe took on the role of hunter-gatherers, taking a list of what Mitch needed, carrying a ledger to record what they found and where, and one or two of their partners to look at the general area and properties. Jamie insisted that the silo needed a facelift and requested paint to start redecorating, ably assisted by Clem and Connor. Mitch concentrated on the outside, having fun learning to drive several pieces of construction equipment to carve up the usual approach road until it was undrivable, plus creating a new access road that led out onto a back road, heavily concealed by a clever screen of living greenery to disguise it. As the road they now used was a dirt road leading onto the main road, it was easy enough to camouflage any recent usage. When the job was done he simply covered the machinery in concealing netting and left it where it was. The fence was a bigger issue, with the original encompassing a wider area than necessary. Being a rural town, getting fencing material was not difficult, and finding a flatbed to carry it all was easily tackled and resolved. The new fence was erected closer to the buildings, taller and topped with razor wire and cameras. It was substantial enough to withstand anything other than a tank or explosives, neither scenario expected. The rank growth around the compound was encouraged so that even from the air, once the exterior buildings were painted to blend in, it was hard to spot the base if you didn't know where to look. 

When the interior and exterior projects were completed it was time for all of them to start visiting various houses and properties around the area, particularly focused on the lake to pick one for a holiday home, and maybe some for more permanent places for people to spend the summer. They had already agreed that spending the deep winter back at the silo was not a terrible prospect and one way to spend Christmas. But now the sunny days and blue skies, surrounded by the spectacular scenery, drew everyone to the lake. The hybrids and past winters had severely decimated the local domestic animals, those that had survived had been rounded up and now inhabited a small farm that was overseen by Abe and Dariela, with help from Jackson and Tessa, with their twins. Clem and Connor took possession of a lakeside chalet that everyone could stay at when they visited and enjoy all the activities available from swimming to canoeing.

By the end of the summer, Mitch had the two properties fitted with surveillance, Connor proving to be a quick study with the electronics involved, having a real interest, and devouring any installation books they found in suppliers around the area. They had to go further afield for some bits and pieces, but the local towns were well supplied and they even stripped some of the more up-market houses of their security systems to supplement their own. The lake was well stocked with fish and the local gardens produced plenty of fruit and random vegetables that had survived being abandoned. The local seed suppliers supplied them with knowledge of what to plant as well as information about animal husbandry, everything usable transported to the farm for Jackson and Abe. They would have no shortage of sillage or hay for their small herds of animals, the paddocks all around them producing a wonderful, colorful display of wildflowers all around the lake, luring out some of the herbivore hybrids to feed and get fat before the winter. They raised a secure metal fence around the boundary of the farm to make it hybrid proof, the domestic animals too easy a kill for a pack on the hunt. Like the one around the silo it was electrified to keep the sheep and few cattle secure at night. The farm also had a barn that was strengthened for when the stock would be kept there during the winter.

Everyone was kept busy but there was always time for fun as well. Clem's son, Samuel was running everywhere now, the nearly two-year-old taking full advantage of the long sunny days, both Connor and Clem kept on their toes keeping track of the child or chasing after him. The sweeping lawn at the front of the chalet was a popular picnic spot, Dariela and Jamie joining Clem and Tessa in helping with the children, the men joining them, and bringing out the barbeque for a late lunch. 

The only time their peaceful existence was disturbed was when a military drone flew over the area, the unmistakable sound sending everyone running for shelter, either under a tree or inside the house to avoid being seen. The animals at the farm could, of course, be seen from above, but there were so few of them and the metal fence being almost invisible from overhead, meant they could be explained as having wandered back to their old farmstead by chance. Without proof of people on site, the drones could take their footage or snap their photos and reveal nothing unusual about the town of Joseph. One time Mitch and Jamie were out on the lake in an open canoe, fishing, when a drone flew over and they had to jump over the side into the water, leaving the canoe empty, the watchers above likely to decide the canoe had been blown into the lake or slipped its mooring and now just drifted upon the lake. 

So the days drifted from summer into autumn and the change of the season, the trees turning into their colorful coats of orange, red, or every shade imaginable, decorating the landscape in a sweep of festive colors, foretelling the winter to come. 

With the first snows they closed up the lake house, keeping the power on to supply the security cameras and sensors, but nothing noticeable to the outside world, the house looking like all the others nearby. 

The farm was similarly closed up, the animals herded into the barn, the small herds settling into their winter home with familiar expectation. The problem of caring for them, mucking out the stalls, and renewing the food and water was discussed, Mitch coming up with the suggestion of a combination of using a snowcat to go overland and get close, then ski the remaining distance to leave the minimum of tracks. A visit to one of the local ski lodges provided all they needed and everyone took up skiing as both a pleasurable and practical skill. As well as skiing, everyone, excluding the littlies, perfected their ability to shoot using a rifle or pistol, both carried by anyone venturing out on foot. 

Before the first serious snowstorm hit, everyone was back at the silo and making preparations to celebrate thanksgiving and review the year just gone. 

Both Clem and Tessa were pregnant for the second time, proving Abe's treatment was a permanent fix if it needed proving at all. The dry goods stored at the silo had been restocked during the summer months, the cold stores augmented as well with the summer bounty from the township. In all, they had a great deal to be thankful for during that year's celebration. 

Everyone helped with preparing the banquet, Connor and Isaac harvesting ducks and chickens enough to feed everyone, the birds back in their winter quarters after a summer spent in their new, secure run and newly dug pond. It was still located in the former storage shed near the silo, but now had a strong perimeter fence plus extras inside and out. Due to the boy's care, the flocks had increased during the spring and they were preparing to do the same the following year, probably sharing some of the flock with the farm nearer town. For now, the boys helped carry bowls and platters to several tables that would act as a buffet for everyone to help themselves before sitting down at the dressed dining table altogether. 

Twinkling lights and festive decorations hung from the newly painted walls and the table glittered with candles and glassware. The twins were in highchairs between Jackson and Tessa, while Samuel was in a booster chair to allow him to eat at the table, the air redolent with delicious scents and soft music, alongside the chatter and laughter from all around the table. 

An insistent beep drew Mitch's attention away from his friends and family, his brain taking a moment to determine what the alarm was signaling before he excused himself and left the room. 

Seating himself at the console he flipped several switches to bring screens online before seeing what the alarm was insistently telling him. 

Detective Logan Hale had returned, only this time he wasn't accompanied by a slew of SWAT or police officers, he was on his own in a beat-up SUV parked at the end of what had been their original access road, his expression confused as he regarded the wall of bare trees and tangled underbrush blocking his way. Mitch turned up the receiver on the camera, hearing the young man talking to someone out of sight.

“I'm not wrong, this is the right place, I know it is.” He turned to peer into the truck. “No. We'll go on to the town and see what we can find there.” Mitch watched the former police officer stomp back to the driver's side and get in, the vehicle making a u-turn and head back towards Joseph. Mitch switched to another view to see the SUV trundle slowly through the slushy road towards the intersection which would take them straight to Joseph. Knowing there was little to provide comfort for the travelers in the township itself, he set his monitoring feed to record and left the room. 

Jamie looked up when he returned to the table. “Anything wrong?”

Mitch shook his head. “Nothing important,” he said, dismissively. They'd need to know about the detective soon, but not right now. Nothing was going to cast a pall over their celebration, they'd all earned it.

“Where is he?” Jackson asked, peering at the camera feed.

“Holed up at the hotel for now. They arrived yesterday, but don't seem to be very well prepared.”

“Yesterday? Why didn't you mention this?” Abe chimed in. 

“Because it wasn't important yesterday, today it is important and you are both here.”

“What's the plan?”

“Plan? You tell me. I haven't seen who he's with, but he's not here in his capacity as a detective, that I can see.”

“The town is already stripped of anything useful. If we do nothing, they will die.”

“Very likely, Abe. So what do we do?”

Mitch swung around in his chair and contemplated his companions. He already knew what they thought, but he wanted them to say it. Abe spoke first.

“I think everyone needs to be a part of the decision. This is a man's life, and whoever he brought with him.”

“Very true, and I agree. Jackson?”

“Agree.”

“Why are they here?” Dariela asked, leaning forward. “Surely he's not going to try and arrest us again?”

Mitch shook his head. “I don't think that's why he's here. At least not in any formal way.”

Clem looked up from playing with Samuel on the floor. “Do we need to do anything?” 

Mitch sent her a look. “There's nothing in Joseph to sustain them, so if we do nothing, they'll starve.”

Clem frowned. “I know that, but he was so horrible the last time, that's what you told us.”

“He was, and I did. Now he's here alone, no backup or help and if we ignore his presence we'll be burying him, and whoever is with him in the spring.”

“We can't leave them, can we,” Tessa stated. “Can we do enough so they don't have to come back here?”

“We could,” Mitch answered. “One of us could go there with supplies, judge the situation, and come back with a report. “

“I will go,” Abe spoke up. “He will expect someone to investigate their arrival, he knows me.”

“Fine. We have a window for the next couple of days before the next storm moves in. Best you go tomorrow.”

Mitch and Jackson stood in the doorway of the garage to watch Abe set off in the snowcat, the treads kicking up a flurry of powdered snow, the vehicle rumbling off among the trees to take the shortest route overland to the town. Aboard, Abe carried his skis and a well-packed backpack, enough to keep two people for a handful of days. He also had a two-way radio and helmet cam to relay back to the silo how the meeting with the former detective went. Abe was also armed. 

Closing the roller doors, Mitch and Jackson went back underground to monitor their friend's progress. When they were installed in the communication center, they watched the screens showing the cameras placed on the snowcat and Abe's helmet, the image tending to bob around when the snowcat ran into dips and hollows in the snow cover. At length, the vehicle stopped at the edge of the tree line overlooking the town. From there, Abe skied down the easy slope towards the township, sweeping towards the hotel at the center of Joseph. When he reached the main street he took off his skis and boots and walked the short distance to stand outside the building, shouting to the occupants to announce his arrival. 

Within minutes Detective Logan Hale appeared in the doorway, a figure behind him waved back to linger in the shadows. 

“Detective Hale,” Abe greeted him.

“Abraham. I was beginning to wonder if you hadn't all decamped for somewhere warmer.”

Abe ignored his attempt to gather information. “What are you doing here?”

“You'll be glad to hear your solution to the sterility crisis worked perfectly. Babies are already being born, others expected anytime soon. You worked a miracle for the world.”

Abe inclined his head in acknowledgment. “And yet, you are here. Why is that?”

Logan let out a huff of breath. “I'm no longer a detective, Abe. I'm not here to arrest you or any of your..er..extended family.”

“Good to know,” Abe retorted. “What has brought you here?”

“Don't give up, do you,” Logan replied. Abe didn't answer, his face impassive. 

“Okay. Look, things are changing in the States. Despite the ability to makes babies again, there's so many shortages, so many riots, and unrest. It's almost like a civil war out there. I was demoted after the debacle with chasing you, then later I packed it all in....”

“Why?” Abe interrupted.

“Because the line between right and wrong is becoming so blurred I couldn't stay any longer. All of the states, bar the ones on the west coast, are under martial law, the population bordering on starvation rations because of the breakdown of production across the country. The loss of crops and domestic animals is huge and rebuilding it taking time, too much to meet the demands of the cities. It wasn't so bad at the start. Many of the smaller towns were doing okay with food sharing and neighborhood support working out, but too many had fled or been forced to go live in the cities and freedoms curtailed for the benefit of the cities, against the freedom of the smaller towns and farming communities.”

Knowing that Mitch and Jackson were monitoring all of this, Abe had let Logan rattle on, but now he interrupted. 

“There is nothing for you here. The town is empty and stripped of anything useful. You will starve if you stay here.” Abe told him. 

Logan stared back, Abe noticing how gaunt and grey the young man looked. “Who is that with you?” He indicated the figure still standing inside the building. Logan glanced over his shoulder, then made a hand signal for them to move into the light. 

“This is my wife, Carrie.” Logan reached out a gloved hand to take the one extended to him by the young woman who now pushed back the hood of her jacket to reveal her face. “Carrie? This is Abraham Kenyatta.”

The young woman stepped forward to extend her hand to formally shake Abe's. “A pleasure to meet you, Doctor Kenyatta. Your name and face are very familiar to me, it has been displayed on the networks regularly, that and all your friends.”

Abe looked at her in surprise. “Really? So they are still looking for us?”

Logan shook his head. “No. They've tried all this year, but there had been no reports of having found where you are hiding. After my team and I submitted our reports earlier this year, they sent out drones to search the area but it was ended when they found no evidence of anyone living here anymore. It was supposed you'd taken off after I left to live somewhere else, and given the choices of a full-scale search, it was put in the too-hard basket.”

Abe nodded, glad to hear their various strategies had worked. “So now what? You're obviously running away from whatever is happening in the east, but what are you hoping for by coming here?”

“They are starting to round up all the women of childbearing ability to put them in a breeding program to rebuild the population.” Logan glanced at his wife. “Carrie was going to be taken away. I couldn't allow that, so I brought her here in the hopes...”

Carrie interrupted. “We hoped to be able to join up with your group and make a new life here, west of the barrier.”

Abe stared at them both. He chose for the moment to ignore what they'd asked. “I've brought you some supplies to tied you over for a few days.”

The eagerness on Carrie's face seeped away, leaving her pale and worried. 

Logan stepped forward. “Thank you, Abe. Come inside, I'll show you where we're staying.”

Abe nodded and followed the pair as they led the way back into the hotel, up the stairs to the second floor, and into a suite of rooms, the air redolent of an open fire, smoke, and ash. Abe dropped his backpack in the small kitchenette off to the side and started to pull out the contents. Logan went over to the fireplace and put another log on the flames before joining his wife and Abe in the kitchen. 

“There's no power,” Carrie was saying, watching as Abe produced a small gas camping stove with a gas canister and got it going to heat water in a small saucepan, using a water bottle to fill it up. 

“Hot soup can do wonders for the constitution,” Abe told them, quickly fixing them two mugs of steaming, thick broth, one of Dariela's favorite recipes. There was little in the way of food in the kitchen cupboards but Abe put away everything he'd brought, Logan watching him over the rim of his mug. He had noticed the helmet camera and figured everything was either being taped or watched live. 

“I don't hold any grudge against any of you for what happened before. I thought I was right to bring you all back, but I know now that would have just ended up with you all being held in custody, probably separated and the women and children with you sent to be interned with the rest of the breeding stock. I'm sorry for the trouble I caused.” Logan swallowed, hoping against hope that his apology would be enough. 

Abe regarded him somberly. “I will leave you now. Whatever is decided, I will see you both again in three days' time. Try not to die before then, it will be very cold with the storm coming in tonight.”

He turned to go then felt a smaller hand settle on his arm. He glanced back.

“Thank you for all this, Doctor Kenyatta. We do appreciate it.” Carrie let him go and he continued out the hotel suite door, closing it behind him. 

His thoughts troubled, Abe returned to where he'd left his gear and skied back to where he'd left the snowcat and hurried home. 


	20. Getting On With Living

“Did you know any of this?” Jackson asked Mitch, the whole family around the table to take part in the discussion.

“Some of it. They are trying to regain control of the food distribution and some people are not keen to give up their freedoms to feed the masses. There had been some chatter about women disappearing, mostly from smaller communities, and being taken somewhere for their own safety...”

Across from him, Dariela let out an inelegant snort of derision. “Of course, it is always for our safety. Some things never change.”

Mitch carried on. “And there have been occasions when the military has been brought in to quell riots and protests in the cities. And yes, we do still regularly appear on the news feeds, but it's all old news, nothing new about a search for us, or anything like that. I would have told you all immediately if there was.”

The people around the table looked at each other, then back at Mitch. 

“So what are we going to decide about Logan and Carrie?” Tessa asked. “If they stay in that hotel they'll starve or freeze to death. I don't want that on my conscience.”

Connor spoke up. “We could house them at the farm, let them look after the animals for us, save us having to keep going out there.”

Jackson nodded. “That's a possibility, although Logan doesn't strike me as the farmer type. Do we really want to trust our future herd's health to a novice?”

“Anyway, we'd still need to regularly supply then with food and essentials, so that negates any benefit to us,” Tessa argued.

Mitch looked around the table. “Then we need to vote. All those that agree with letting Logan and his wife come live with us?” He counted the hands upraised. “Those who want to leave them where they are?”

There were no hands to count. Mitch nodded. “That's decided then. Jackson, you go pick them up this time. Tomorrow is soon enough. If you go early you should miss the storm.”

“Why not pick them up via the road, rather than through the woods?” Connor asked. 

“Because I'm not ready to trust them completely right now. They know that one access road is cut off, they don't need to know about the other one just yet. The snowcat will hold whatever belongings they brought with them, and their SUV can be left in town until the spring. Anyone have a problem with that?” He looked around the table and waited, but no one offered to argue the point. 

Mitch and Abe, along with Jamie and Dariela stood at the entrance to the garage to welcome the snowcat when it returned. They'd spoken to Jackson on the radio and they expected him to arrive any moment. A distant rumble could just be heard over the heavy snow falling, the sound of the snowcat coming closer until it was there in front of them, lurching to a halt in the thick layer of white covering the ground. Abe went over to open the passenger side door, handing down the woman, Carrie, followed by the former detective, Logan Hale. Everyone pitched in to get their belongings off the back of the snowcat, then Jackson drove it away to where it lived around the back of the garage in a lean-to built specifically for it, a door in the back giving access to the main building. Abe activated the roller doors to stop the snow from drifting in and they approached the lift, Jackson appearing in time to catch the ride with them. At the bottom everyone piled out, carrying pieces of the couples belongings among them. 

“We'll show you where you are sleeping first, then introduce you to the rest of the family,” Jamie told them, taking the lead. Mitch watched them go then headed for the kitchen where Tessa and Clem waited with their children, plus Connor.

“It's so light and bright down here, and so warm. I don't feel claustrophobic at all.” Carrie's voice carried to those waiting in the kitchen, the women exchanging a look before pinning smiles on their faces to welcome the newcomers. 

“And here we have the kitchen...” Abe announced, ushering in the couple, both of whom halted on being faced with not only more people but very young children as well. 

“Holy shit!” Carrie stuttered, Logan staring goggle-eyed at the abundance of babies. 

“You kept this well hidden,” he breathed, feeling his wife grasp his hand. 

“Wouldn't you?” Mitch retorted making his way into the room behind them. “Go take a seat and we'll introduce you.”

Logan sat down on one of the dining chairs, Carrie beside him. Jackson walked over to Tessa, beaming. “This is Tessa and our twins, Rose and Ryan. They'll be a year old in a week's time.” While the new couple stared at the twins, Mitch coughed to draw their attention back to him.

“This is my daughter, Clem, her partner Connor and their son, Samuel. He's nearly two years old now.” He paused, then continued. “Connor is Jackson's son from his first wife.” He indicated Dariela. “And this is Dariela, Abe's wife and their son, Isaac who's eleven? Twelve now?” He pulled a face at the boy as if trying to remember, Isaac grinning and stuck his tongue out at him in rebuke. 

Mitch turned to the other people all standing around the room. “And their dog, Pizza. You've met Abe and Jackson. I'm Mitch Morgan, and this is Jamie Campbell.”

Carrie looked overwhelmed, whispering “Wow!” in response to all the introductions. 

Logan looked around at the men and women, plus children, filling the room almost to capacity. “I had no idea, not really. You were right to keep them hidden. If I'd known you had such riches...” He swallowed and looked up directly at Mitch. “Thank you for taking us in. You probably don't trust us yet, but there's nothing for us to go back to. We live or die here, west of the barrier. There's no going back.”

Mitch folded his arms over his chest. “For the time being there are areas of this base that you won't be allowed to access as yet. They include the communication center and the warehouse. Other than those, you can use anything else the same as the rest of us, that includes the gym, the library, media room, and kitchen. There are cameras seeded throughout the silo, so remember that if you're thinking of sabotage or something like that.”

“Hell no!” Logan exclaimed. “We wouldn't...I wouldn't...” He stared at the hard faces looking at them. “We'll do whatever you say.”

“Good enough. Let Dariela know if you have any food allergies or specific dietary needs, otherwise, we'll let you get settled in and see you later when we eat.” Reaching for Jamie's hand, Mitch moved to leave the room, Abe on his heels. When they were a little way down the hall, Mitch spoke again.

“Any weapons?” he asked.

“I asked, they said no,” Abe told him, rolling his shoulders.

“We'll see. Catch you later.” Mitch waved and left Abe in the corridor.

Back in their room, Jamie threw herself on the bed, letting out a gusty breath.

“Phew. That was a bit tense. She seems okay.”

“I'll give them until Christmas, then pass judgment,” Mitch told her. 

“You can't tell now?” Jamie pressed, rolling onto her stomach, one eyebrow arched.

Mitch looked down at her and quirked his own, dark eyebrow back. “Fine. I can tell now, but feelings are not always motives or actions. Let them prove they don't mean any harm, then I might trust them...just a little.”

Jamie laughed. “Come here, Mr. Grumpy. I have a guaranteed way to get your smile back.”

Mitch grinned down at her. “I was so hoping you'd say that.”

After an initial awkwardness and hesitation, Carrie and Logan started to integrate themselves into the lifestyle of living underground. Logan volunteered to help with the birds, joining Isaac and Connor on their trips to the nearby barn, not balking at cleaning out the guano or checking the building for damage or breaks. Both of the newcomers soon lost their gaunt and grey complexions, finding the food hot and tasty and generous. They also lost the wary looks as they got to know the children and interact with them, even offering to babysit to give the parents time alone. Pizza soon gave them his nod of approval, often allowing Logan to rub his belly while his tail wagged in doggie bliss at the attention. 

Carrie helped out as everyone did with the regular chores from meal preparation to laundry, even becoming very adept at changing nappies when the parents were needed elsewhere. Before long it was almost as if the former Detective and his wife had always been there, adding their number to lighten the load of the unavoidable jobs required to be done to keep the silo livable while the storms raged overhead, dumping snow on the ground while they wallowed in the warmth and companionship far below. 

Mitch was able to confirm almost all of the information that Logan had told Abe at their first meeting, that the world was implementing rules and regulations that left little freedom for the people trying to return to a normal life. The military enforced the edicts handed down from Washington and a new normal was created, in shape and form far distant from what anyone, not there to see it happening, would have a hard time understanding or complying with. More and more people were starting to escape to the west coast, at first in dribs and drabs, a few here, a few there, the small existing communities based on the coast starting to swell with the number of refugees fleeing what was becoming a regime like an autocracy reportedly keeping the people alive and working, even against their own wishes if needs be. It seemed to be a phenomenon largely unique to the United States, Europe, and Asia maintaining a better status quo, although food shortages were still forcing the military to control the populace. albeit to a lesser degree than currently employed by the US Military across the continent. 

**_ Winter/Spring 2029 – Joseph, Oregon _ **

Mitch and his team started to discuss replacements for supplies that were starting to run out. With spring looming on the horizon, they started to make plans to travel further afield to gather whatever was left in the settlements and towns around them. Fuel – petrol and diesel were running low, Mitch suggesting the option of making their own fuel, ethanol for starters to mix with the remaining stocks of fossil fuels.

In the previous year, they had plundered all that Joseph had to offer, extending their search to the city of Enterprise, just north of Joseph on the edge of the Nez Perce National Park. There was little to find directly north and east of Joseph, so they would need to travel further west and follow the main highway eighty-two around the mountains enclosing Joseph, following the course of the Wallowa River. A trip to Enterprise had proved useful for restocking their medical supplies from the local hospital, and Lostine was a great place to find metalworking supplies from a welding company, but not much else. Goats had been seen using the few houses there for shelter and grazing and Jackson intended to see if they could capture some to add to their domestic stock for their milk and meat. Wallowa city was the next bead on the string that was the highway eighty-two west, with Elgin probably the limit of how far they wanted to explore come the spring. In the future, they could travel the hour and a half to the end of the eighty-two and explore the larger city of La Grande, but that was an expedition a year or two ahead, and only if there was something critical they needed that couldn't be found closer. 

During his research of the surrounding area and the winding road between Joseph and La Grande, there were several places where a well placed explosive charge would prevent anyone from venturing into the area further than Elgin, simply by destroying the bridge over the Grande Ronde River.

All of these future excursions and expeditions were discussed and pored over by everyone at one time or another, while above ground the winter months played out as they always had done from time immemorial. 

Tessa and Clementine's pregnancies were progressing apace with few problems for either woman. Abe offered the cure to Carrie when they'd been at the silo for three months. Logan left the decision up to his wife, letting her make the choice, not because he didn't want children, but he knew that he could trust Abe to inform Carrie of all the options and prepare her for the possibility that she might not conceive despite being treated, a situation borne out by Jamie who, to her private distress, remained infertile. In the end, Carrie opted to try the cure with the possibility of becoming pregnant by spring. 

Mitch and Abe were also working on distilling the hybrid serum to give those, not already exposed among the adults, a chance to try it and give them a potentially extended life span. He had gone out to track down the nearest Razorback wolfpack, using his unique skill to allow him to get close enough to dart one of the animals and bring it back to the Silo for them to experiment with. Knowing that the animals could communicate over distances, they took their samples but kept the animal in good health. If their tests proved workable, having a thriving source of the hybrid enzymes in their saliva would bear fruit in later years. Despite their manner of creation, Mitch bore the animals no malice and wished them good luck with carving out a niche for themselves in the forest and mountains surrounding them. The original animal was soon released after they had harvested a sufficient quantity of the hybrid fluids, Mitch releasing the creature back to its pack just as healthy as before. 

Now they offered it to the others. Tessa and Clem would have to wait until their babies were born, but Dariela decided to offer herself as a guinea pig for the first trial of the serum. When she received the injection she rubbed her arm and smiled wrily. “I'm glad I don't have to be bitten or attacked to try this. I have enough bullet wounds scars for one body, thank you.”

Within weeks she was showing similar results to Jamie, her body's aging reversed by over a decade, the gray gone from her hair and the lines smoothed from the corners of her eyes. From a woman in her mid-forties, she looked barely thirty, old scars and sun damage gone. Abe had already taken the serum, the changes largely subtle given his darker skin and already youthful appearance, but the changes were still there, old wounds no longer visible, his strength and physical fitness improved, joint and muscle tone back to more youthful levels. 

With the dramatic results in front of them, the two younger men, Connor and Logan, agreed to wait for some time before they adopted the offer. Connor was only in his mid-twenties, and reversing his physical age by even a decade was ridiculous, while Logan was only in his early thirties, not needing to mess with his physical state as he was already in peak condition from the good food and regular use of the gym equipment. He also didn't want to risk anything while he and Carrie were trying to get pregnant.

The snows were starting to melt, spring pushing leaves out onto branches and through the slush left behind. Creeks and river ice were starting to break up, the lake ice thinning with each day, releasing its winter grip on life all around the glacial valley. With the road cleared of the worst of the snow and ice, it was easier to access the farm using the four-wheel drives, the snowcat, and skis packed away until next November. Jackson and Connor went to check on the livestock, releasing the sheep and cattle out into the pasture while the barn was cleaned out and fresh straw laid in the stalls. Tracks in the mud showed where both predators and visiting herbivores had investigated the animals inside, several of the more prominent tracks identified as Razorbacks, Wolf, and Cougar. The hooved animals that had visited appeared to be feral goats, possibly some of the mountain goats the area was known for, deer, and one set of horse prints. If they were able to stock up on feed for the next winter, they'd lay out food for the visitors as well. For now, father and son worked to provide for their small herd and plan for the spring and summer to come. 

Mitch released the last of his reservations about Logan when his wife announced she was pregnant, the young couple over the moon with the pronouncement, Logan shaking everyone by the hand, a grin stretching his lips wide even while tears of gratitude and happiness slipped down his cheeks. 

Tessa and Clem, both due to give birth at the height of Summer, congratulated Carrie and commiserated that she'd be carrying all through summer into winter before her baby was due, but it couldn't dampen the young woman's heartfelt joy at having both women, and Dariela on hand, along with Abe to see her through the pregnancy. Jamie's congratulations were as heartfelt as anyone's her smile and hug warm and supportive. If she took herself off a little earlier in the celebrations, nobody noticed except Mitch. 

“I wish there was someway....” he murmured, pressing a kiss on her hair. 

“I'm okay, really.” She shifted against him, plastering herself against his skin. “I just need to find something that I can get my teeth into, something that will take my mind off....everything.”

Mitch sighed softly, wishing sometimes he didn't know what she was thinking, that he could accept the lie at face value and not know that her inability to bear him a child wasn't eating her up. “I love you,” he whispered, kissing her head again. He felt her smile against his neck, her lips pressing softly against the pulse to leave a kiss as delicate as a butterfly wing.

“I know you do, I love you too.” She levered herself onto her elbow to be able to look down into his face, his hand dropping from her shoulder to her back. “I know you don't see me as any less of a woman because I'm barren, but I need to find something that will give me a new focus, a new direction as far removed from this...this...maternity hospital it's become lately.” She stopped him talking by placing a finger on his lips. “I don't hold any sort of enmity towards our friends, I'm happy for them, but it gets harder and harder for me, and I don't know how to make it different, how to feel different.” She traced the outline of his lips, brushing lightly over the scruff coating his chin and cheeks. “I think maybe I need to go away for a little while...” She felt his body jerk then surge upwards. “No. Jamie that's not a solution...” She sat up properly and folded her legs Indian-style. 

“I know it's not the best solution, but maybe if I can get right away and have a break, I'll be more able to return and not feel so...broken.”

“Sweetheart...” Mitch made to hug her, but Jamie held up her hand to stop him. 

“I've tried, Mitch, truly I have. I love all the children, and I don't resent their mothers, I just...I need to do this, I need to get away.”

Feeling the turmoil and upset roiling inside her, Mitch held his tongue and merely nodded his understanding.

“Where do you think you'll go?” he asked.

“I think I'll explore the other end of the lake...” She barely got the words out before Mitch leaned in and hugged her fiercely. 

“Oh, thank God, I thought you meant to leave the state!”

Jamie let his warmth surround her then pushed him back. “Mitch, I need some space, but I'm not stupid. I'll find a place by the lakeshore and take a few weeks vacation by myself, that's all.”

Mitch hung his head for a second or two, relief flooding through him. “That's great, I can come and bring stuff for you...”

“No. I don't want to see you or have anyone visit. If you do then I will have to leave the state to get what I need. Do I make myself clear?” She sent him a stern look. Mitch clamped his lips together but nodded his acquiescence. Jamie looked at him for a second then unfolded her legs and lay back down on the bed. Mitch followed her down and gently gathered her against him again. 

“When do you want to do this?” he asked, nuzzling her cheek. 

“Tomorrow.”

The nuzzling paused for a moment then restarted. “Okay. You'll take one of the trucks?”

“Of course. You can help me pack it with whatever you think I'll need.”

He grunted. “I can do that.”

They lay together, savoring their closeness all the more knowing it would be the last for a while.

“How long...?”

“I don't know. Long enough to get my head straight.”

In the end, they slept a little, made love for the last time, then got up to start packing one of the trucks, sorting through their supplies for what she'd need to spend time away from the silo and all the people in it. Mitch insisted she take a short wave radio set in case of emergencies. Without electricity she'd have to do without certain luxuries, so took mostly dry goods which she would supplement with fishing and hunting when necessary. Abe had taught her how to set traps for both animals and fish during the previous autumn, so she wouldn't starve and she took enough linen and home comforts so she wouldn't have to rough it too hard. Mitch packed her a comprehensive medical kit plus a useful tool kit to cover nearly everything she'd need. By the time the rest of the family were getting up to prepare for a new day, Jamie was on the cusp of leaving. 

“I'm sorry to be such a coward and leave it for you to tell them.”

“Not a problem. I think you'd be surprised at how not surprised most of them will be.” He hugged her tighter, Jamie letting out a small huff of laughter.

“I will miss you,” he whispered, loosening his arms about her.

“I love you, Mitch and I will miss you terribly, but I need to do this.”

“I know. Come back to me when you're ready. I'll be waiting.”

He kissed her, deeply and lingeringly, wanting to impress the shape and texture of her lips against his own, not knowing how long she'd be away from him, or if she'd ever come back. 

They separated and Jamie walked to the truck, getting in and starting up the engine before winding the window down to take one last look at him. 

“Don't forget to call us,” Mitch reminded her, lifting his hand to wave. 

“I won't forget.” Jamie stared at him for a long moment, then turned to face forward, easing the truck out of the garage and right, towards the track to take her out to the main road. Mitch walked forward, his arm raised to wave as the truck slowly eased through the slushy mud and between the bare trees until it was out of sight. Alone, he dropped his arm and stared after her, the weak morning sun barely risen but sending shafts of light through the bare black tree trunks.

“Is she coming back?” Jackson's voice behind him made him jerk in surprise at not having felt his presence.

“I hope so. You felt it too?” Mitch asked, still staring down the empty track. 

“Just the restlessness, the borderline panic. She's been giving that off for days.”

“Yeah. I know.” Mitch ducked his head and swung around on his heel to stomp past Jackson and head for the lift. His friend followed him. Together, in silence they descended the sixty feet to their burrow, Mitch bracing himself to come up with an explanation for why Jamie felt she had to go away. 


	21. Taking The Time

**_ Spring 2029, Lake Wallowa _ **

The road snaked down the side of the lake for about four miles, close to the shore and giving wonderful views across the water and ahead to the mountains towering over everything. There were numerous slips caused by past winter snows and several she had to simply drive over as they covered the whole access road. She figured that in another decade the road would be impassable without heavy machinery to keep it clear. For now, it wasn't so bad and she reached the south end settlement without mishap. Following the local map, the road to the right took the sightseer to the marina, such as it was, and also gave access to campsites and boating in the Wallowa Lake state park. Driving to the end of the road, she got out and walked the last few feet to stand looking north down the length of the stretch of deep water that was the lake proper. According to the blurb on the sign near to where she stood, its deepest point was nearly three hundred feet deep and its overall length three and a half miles. If that didn't put a big enough buffer between her and the others, nothing would. 

She'd canoed with Mitch off the northern shore close to Joseph, but they hadn't gone out far, more like skimmed the coast for a little distance before coming back to try their luck fishing. Even that had been interrupted by the damn drone flying over giving them both a ducking in the cold water so they could avoid being seen. She shivered in her fur-lined coat just thinking about the temperature of the water. Not wanting to hang about, she got back in the truck and turned the vehicle around to return to the main road to explore what else was available. Tall stately pines soared overhead as she slowly drove the only road, noting the large lodge on the corner that looked like it could be comfortable. There were few shops at this end of the lake, most of them either accommodation or suppliers of outdoor equipment for the tourists. On all sides the mountain ridges loomed high in the sky, clothed in stately, dark, tall Grand pines and towering Larch trees. After a simple drive around to see what there was which took no time at all, Jamie decided to settle on the Wallowa Lake Lodge, a three-storey, imposing wood-built building nestled among the trees with views of the lake. Reading the brochure she had snagged from one of the stores, she admired the old-world look of the place and had her eye on one of the upper rooms, if the roof was still intact and the rooms weren't trashed by the weather or animals. Standing outside the building she breathed in the clean, pine-scented air, listening to the birds making the most of the daylight hours and feeling a sense of peace settle over her. 

Leaving the truck unpacked, for the time being, she tramped up the stairs to the front double doors, finding them locked. By simple dint of smashing one of the panes she reached in and turned the catch, unlocking the door. Entering the building she marveled at the comfortable, frontier-style interior, a huge fireplace taking center stage at the left-hand end of the building, the stone chimney reaching up to the ceiling, through all the floors, and above the roof. Comfortable seating covered in dust sheets took up most of the space near the fire with numerous windows allowed natural light to stream in. Above one was an impressive mounted Moose head, albeit dusty and cobweb-covered. Overall the building was tall and long, but surprisingly narrow, the bottom floor taken over with lounge, dining, kitchen, and games room, while the upper two floors were purely accommodation. Walking up the stairs she reached the top floor, peering out the windows to admire the view. A large suite at the end of the corridor had a roofed balcony off it and she chose this for her lounge, dining, and kitchen. The room next door was a little smaller but had its own fireplace and was probably used as a honeymoon suite during its heyday. Satisfied she'd found where she was going to settle, she went back down and started to offload the truck and carry them up to her new accommodation. 

She spent the rest of the day organizing the rooms to suit her needs, raiding the downstairs for a small table and chair, plus smaller side tables to use for her kitchen and food. The queen bed was lugged into another room. She raided some of the other rooms for extra bedding, finding a storage cupboard with useful, practical items like storm lanterns, firestarters, kindling, and candles. With two of the living spaces set up for her use, she carried up a quantity of logs for the fireplace in the bedroom and got it going, the chimney thankfully free of bird's nest or blockages. The bedroom quickly warmed up as the sun sank serenely behind the mountains, casting the lake head in darkness and the haunting call of an owl. After the bustle and noise of the silo, the quiet was a little unnerving at the start, but that didn't stop her bundling up and going to stand out on the balcony attached to the room, a twin of the one off the larger room next door, and just soaking up the peace that surrounded her. Despite the spring temperatures, the night times were chill enough to freeze the marrow in your bones, so Jamie didn't linger outside, glad to re-enter her room to the heat of the fireplace and the cheer of its flickering flames. 

**_ Late Spring, 2029, The Silo _ **

Mitch listened to the news coming out of the east and felt uneasy, his brows drawing together in a frown. The images alone were disturbing showing people being rounded up, protesters being smoke bombed and shot at with rubber bullets. The population in the rural areas, those that survived were being collected and sent to the cities, the families resettled and the men sent back as work gangs to farm the land, their wives and relations held hostage for their good behavior. Women of breeding age were secluded in particular buildings to be administered the cure and to keep a watch on them. If they had a husband, they were allowed to inhabit a family dwelling or apartment but monitored and tested, encouraged vigorously to become pregnant, regardless of how many children they may already have had or wanted. Women beyond childbearing were, depending on age, sent to work in food production, replacing the former male employees who now made up the manual labor force. Inevitably, protests and riots broke out on all sides, the military boosting the ranks of the police to quell any uprisings, curfews rigorously enforced. It was becoming a battle to survive as much, if not more so than when the hybrids were the enemy, now it was those in control and trying to bring order that was the enemy, freedom of liberties a largely forgotten concept. How long it would last, was anyone's guess.

He tried not to listen to it for too long, the endless negativity too depressing for a constant diet. The news out of Europe was marginally better, with less trying to subjugate the population but suffering more with starvation and subsequent illness.

It only served to reinforce what an idyllic life his small band of friends and family now enjoyed. 

Jamie had been gone nearly three months, checking in as she promised every week, but not exactly chatting when she did so. With the weather improving he supposed she would stay down at the southern end of the lake until Autumn. Thinking of how much he missed her just soured his mood even further. He could feel her presence, her spirit but she was too far for him to know precisely what she was thinking or feeling, which both reassured him but also pissed him off. To keep his mind off events beyond his control, he dived back into science, taking over some projects that Abe needed help with and he wanted to explore. They had only scratched the surface of their knowledge of the hybrids, some of the samples still untouched and untested. 

Making his way to the lab room, Mitch pushed open the door and entered the room. He'd half expected Abe to be there, then remembered the big guy had left that morning to join Dariela and Isaac at the farm, leaving Mitch alone for the first time in a very long time.

Clem, Connor with Samuel, were back at their lakeside house, Clem getting big with her baby due at the end of June. Logan and Carrie had moved in with them, Carrie only just starting to show, her baby due towards the end of the year. 

At the farm were Jackson, Tessa, the twins along with Abe and Dariela plus Isaac and Pizza. Dariela was able to help Tessa with the children while the men took care of the farm management and animal care. 

The left Mitch, who could join either household, but chose to remain at the Silo and monitor what was happening beyond the barrier, and in the hopes that Jamie would return sooner rather than later. 

Sitting at his workbench he perused his latest journal entries, listing the latest testing and experiments done on samples they'd gathered in the previous summer. One still languished, waiting its turn, at the back of the fridge. It was the one hybrid that didn't seem to exist this side of the barrier. It was the tentacle he'd lopped off the creature that tried to drag Jamie away. He held up the jar, turning it back and forth, watching the pallid suckered flesh wobble in the preserving fluid. 

“What secrets do you hold?” he asked it, already thinking of the tests he could put it through.

The next few hours flew past as he worked, completely consumed with the project, his journal filled with copious notes as each new test yielded new results.

“Well, I'll be damned.” He sat back from the bench, the latest information on the screen in front of him. It was already accepted that hybrid enzymes could work wonders with rapid healing, rejuvenation, and de-aging effects on the human body, as well as the added tweak of giving some people enhanced mental abilities of different degrees. If his preliminary tests were accurate, and he had no reason to suspect they weren't, the serum from the octopus hybrid was a highly concentrated version of what the other hybrids carried around naturally. In essence, the octopus hybrid was a living medical repair shop, its body fluids having the ability to seek out damaged cells, animal or human, and repair them, reversing any damage in a similar way to the ordinary hybrid serum, but at a faster and more efficient way with the potential to cure any illness suffered by man or beast. Of course, to prove that it was the miracle cure for anything, he'd have to have a subject with something that medicine couldn't cure to test if this new serum could cure it. Given its complex and highly engineered DNA, he wouldn't put it past it to be able to grow or partially regrow a limb. He also wouldn't be surprised if Abigail had included a variation of the aquatic salamander or axolotl genetics into the mix to achieve that outcome. The possibilities were mind-blowing.

He sat for a long time reading and rereading his results, his notes, the procedures he'd used, checking and rechecking for any mistakes he might have made in the process, analysis, and final conclusions, finding nothing in his work to disprove what sat before him. It was world-changing.

From a state of near torpor, he suddenly sprang into action, gathering up his notes to take with him. He needed Abe to look over all of it and give his opinion before Mitch could do anything else. 

**_ The Farm, outskirts of Joseph, Oregon _ **

Dariela heard the vehicle coming up the track at speed and leaned forward to peer out the window.

“Who is it?” Tessa called out.

“Looks like Mitch and he's in one hell of a hurry.” She dried her hands and went to the front door, pulling it wide as the truck skidded to a halt sending up a cloud of dust that Dariela tried to wave away from her face. Mitch jumped out immediately and took the steps in two bounds.

“Where's Abe?”

“In the barn. One of the cows is about to drop a calf. What's the fuss about?”

“No time.” And he was gone, running down the dirt path towards the huge red barn.

“Was it Mitch?” Tessa called out, pinned to the couch by one of the twins she was feeding. 

“Yeah,” Dariela replied, still waving at the dust motes dancing in the air. “In an awfully big hurry to see Abe.”

“What about?” Tessa asked.

“Damned if I know,” Dariela shot back, shutting the door and the dust cloud outside. 

Abe and Jackson were both in a stall in the barn, a cow laying down in the straw laboring to birth her calf into the world. Mitch curbed his enthusiasm and waited by the entrance to the stall, giving both men clearance, the cow moaning as she labored. Suddenly the calf slipped from its mother and tumbled loosely into the straw in a heap of dripping fluid and mucus, the mother turning its head to look at its newborn. Abe reached down to clear the animal's face of mucus and membranes, rubbing its back to encourage it to breathe, seconds later and it was moving on its own, drawing in air, the mother reaching back to lick at her newborn, further stimulating it. Abe stood back and reached for the bucket behind him, washing his hands clean and accepting the towel Jackson held out. Only then did they notice their audience.

“Mitch, good to see you. Our first addition to our herd.” Abe indicated the calf now getting a more thorough clean from its mother. 

“You looked like you knew what to do,” Mitch remarked, obviously impressed. 

“I used to help my mother with our small herd of cattle when I was young. Some things you just don't forget.”

“Lucky for us,” Jackson added. 

“We were not expecting you so soon,” said Abe, looking at Mitch.

“I've been working on a sample I brought back a year or more ago. The tentacle from the squid that attacked Jamie. I need you to read my results and tell me I'm not going mad.”

Abe exchanged a look with Jackson before turning back to their friend. “I think I'm all done here. Mama here seems to know what to do, so let's go up to the house.”

The three men left the barn and the new mother, walking up the path to the farmhouse to find Dariela waiting for them on the verandah. Abe met her with a hug and a kiss on the cheek before leading Jackson and Mitch around the corner of the deck to where seating was arranged, facing west to view the sunset. 

“I hadn't realized it was so late,” Mitch remarked, noting how low the sun was in the sky. “I've had my head down and didn't notice the time go.”

Tessa was already on the deck seated in a comfortable chair, her belly very prominent under the voluminous shirt. Part of the deck had been fenced off to provide a play area for the twins, Isaac in there with them helping them stack nesting pots and plastic blocks into towers to be pushed over resulting in squeals of delight with each tower destroyed. 

Leaving his friends for a moment, Mitch went to his truck and pulled out the folders and paperwork he needed to show them. Dariela had brought out a tray of drinks and sandwiches for them all before sitting herself beside Abe in one of the cushioned wicker chairs.

Mitch handed a sheaf of papers to Abe who took them and started to read. When one sheet was finished, Mitch handed him the next, Abe not making any comment until he was about halfway through.

“This is incredible,” was all he said before reaching for the next piece of information. His friends munched their way through the sandwiches and drinks while Abe read, then when he was done he sat back, taking the glass Dariela held out for him. After downing the liquid in a few swallows, he wiped his mouth and turned to face Mitch. 

“This could change everything.”

Mitch grinned back at him and nodded. “You don't think I've made a mistake?”

Abe let out a snort. “When have you ever made a mistake, Mitch. This could be groundbreaking. It is remarkable.”

“What are you two talking about?” Dariela asked, sounding cross and excited at the same time. 

“Mitch has discovered a particular characteristic in a sample of the squid hybrid that has the potential to cure and repair any illness or injury prevalent in mankind that we know of.”

Dariela, Jackson, and Tessa looked stunned at the news. “Is that even possible?” Tessa asked. 

Abe glanced at Mitch. “It would seem so if these results can be proven.”

“I know the perfect test subject,” Mitch said, too wound up to sit still. He stood up and started to pace in front of the others. “But I can't go and see her myself. I'd need someone to go in my place.”

“Are you talking about Jamie?” Dariela asked, looking at Abe and then Mitch.

“Yeah,” Mitch replied shortly. “It's the reason she's where she is. Because she can't stand to be around all the babies and pregnant women. If this works she could become pregnant herself.”

Dariela and Tessa looked appalled. “She never let on. We didn't know.”

“She didn't want you to know, didn't want anyone to know,” Mitch shot back, his brows drawing together. “In fact, she'll be mad as a snake knowing I've told you now.”

“I'll go,” said Abe. “She knows this is my area of specialty. We've already done most of the preliminary tests, so she'll know I'm telling the truth when I present this as a possible cure to her condition.”

“But Jamie was already exposed to the hybrid effect and that didn't help. Why should this work, where the other didn't?” Jackson asked.

Mitch stopped his pacing. “That's the thing. This hybrid's body chemistry is different. Similar to the other hybrids in the fast healing properties but it's like it is super-sized, or super infused with an added component that not only heals but has the ability to regrow – like the liver but so much more. It seems to be able to replicate the missing pattern, to be able to recognize what has been damaged or broken, and repair it back to its original condition even if something is missing. It's like the ultimate reset button. It can determine from the DNA what is required and then replicates it. If it is damaged it repairs it, if it is removed it puts it back. It would revolutionize medical practice and procedures completely.”

Mitch stared back at his friends, all of them, except Abe, looking skeptical that something could even exist let alone perform such miracles. 

“Jamie is the only one that can prove that it works. We've already done, Abe and I, extensive testing and proved that she is unable to conceive. If we try this and it 'fixes' her, it has the potential to fix anything.”

“What if she doesn't want to be 'fixed'?” Tessa asked. “Maybe her going away was to come to terms with her situation, then you suddenly offer her a cure-all, and what if it doesn't work? It could destroy her. I know. I've had a friend who went through every procedure to rectify her infertility and in the end, nothing worked. When the world was universally sterilized, it was the height of irony that she'd spent so much only to have everyone now in the same boat. But that aside, the constant hope that something would work nearly sent her over the edge.”

Mitch stared at Tessa and she saw the anguish in his eyes. “I love Jamie more than I have anyone in my life. For me she is perfect and if she never had a child that's okay in my world. I'm not doing this for me, I'm doing this for her. I think if there was the faintest chance that this would work for her, she needs to know about it and make that decision.” He turned to look at Abe. “How soon can you go?”

“Tomorrow morning. Now the calf has arrived, I'm not needed here, so I can drive down the lake and present what you've got here.”

Mitch nodded. “Good. I have the first dose already in the truck. You can take that with you. If she says yes, there's no need to wait another second to try it. She can even stay where she is, although it would be good for you to be on hand in the event of any side effects...”

“Mitch. Sit down, of course I'll stay with her a couple of days.” Abe held out Mitch's untouched glass. “Here. Drink this and relax. The rest will be up to Jamie.”

**_ Wallowa Lake Lodge _ **

Jamie heard the unfamiliar sound and it took a second before she recognized it as a vehicle crunching slowly along the road outside the lodge. Her heart leapt and she scrambled to reach the window to look out and see who it was. It was one of the trucks, the white paint job not looking so pristine after a couple of winters battering, was parking in front of the lodge and a tall, dark-skinned man climbing out to stare up at the frontage. Jamie pushed up the window and leaned out. 

“Abe!” Waving to get his attention. Abe looked up and grinned, his teeth very white in his face. 

“Jamie!” He waved back and she ducked inside, taking off out the room to run down the stairs and greet him. 

Abe was standing in the foyer, looking around the spacious rooms when Jamie appeared, still running, Abe bracing himself to accept her enthusiastic hug, swinging her around before setting her on her feet. 

“Oh, my God, it's so wonderful to see you! Is everyone alright?” She suddenly frowned. “There's nothing wrong, is there?”

Abe laughed. “Nothing at all wrong, everyone is fine and wanting to know when they will see you again. The twins are growing taller every day and Clem looks about to pop.”

Jamie resumed her wide grin and grabbed his hand to pull him outside to sit on the deck and hear all his news. 

“So what brings you to see me?” she asked after he'd brought her up to date on everyone's welfare, even Pizza's health and condition.

“Apart from the fact that it is never a chore to see you, Jamie, I have some important news to share with you.” He paused for a moment to look around and admire the trees and views of the lake. “This is truly a peaceful place you have here.”

Jamie cast a glance at her surroundings. “Certainly plenty and more of peaceful and quiet. So much quiet I sometimes scream just to hear a noise once in a while.”

Abe arched a brow at her, Jamie laughing in response. “I know, I'm the one who wanted to come here, but I think I'm almost ready to pack it in and come home.”

“That is very good news. It makes what I have to tell you all the more exciting.” He sat back and linked his hands over his belly. 

For the next half an hour he detailed what Mitch had found in his studies of the octopus hybrid tentacle, the serum created and the possible effects of its application, its potential as a regenerative cure-all for all manner of ailments, not least the cause of her hiding out at the top of the lake in a vain attempt to accept her lot.

Jamie listened to what he had to say, then when Abe was finished she got up and started to walk away, down the steps and across the deer-cropped grass towards the lake edge. Abe watched her go, uncertain how she'd taken the news, then got up and followed her. At length they reached the edge of the water, the waves lapping over the pebbles and gritty sand, the water as clear as glass, a breeze blowing in their faces full of the smell of pine and bullrushes.

“It sounds very much like a dream, Abe. Is it really possible? Could what is broken inside be mended?”

“The chances are very high, Jamie. You know that Mitch accepts you as you are, so if you choose to not try, he is onside with that.”

Jamie let out a harsh bark of laughter. “He would be. Wretched man.”

He gave her an elbow nudge.“He loves you and only wants you to be happy.”

“I know. I just don't know if this is what I truly want or need. Lots of women can't have children, why am I finding this such a hard choice to accept?”

Abe placed an arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “You know that I wouldn't push you into accepting anything you weren't sure of.”

“I know. Why don't you go bring your stuff indoors and I'll meet you back at the lodge in a little while.”

Abe gave her another squeeze then removed his arm. “Okay.” 

Jamie gave him a tour of the lodge while they had light. She showed off the kitchen with its deep pantry stocked fully floor to ceiling with tinned, packaged, and boxed foodstuffs as if expecting their customers to come back, the ingredients just waiting for fresh produce to be used again. Jamie proudly told Abe his lessons had paid off and she'd dined on lake trout caught in her fish traps, and rabbit caught using snares. She'd also found a recipe book using wild foods that helped her identify and find edible greens, herbs, and fungi to add to her meals. In the games room, they played several sets on the snooker table, Abe having the edge having played more games against Jackson at the silo than Jamie. The cold store was empty, Jamie glad that she hadn't had to deal with rotting carcasses, but she did find several dried continental meat and salami rolls to add spice to her diet along with some hard cheeses that survived, all of them kept safe away from the insects and damp. Before the sun went down they gathered together a meal and took it upstairs to eat on the deck overlooking the lake and enjoy the sunset together. 

“I have missed the company,” Jamie confessed, propping her booted feet on the deck railing, the sun nearly at the surrounding ridge, the sky starting to stream colors in soft pastels. Raptors still flew high on the thermals, circling as they hunted in the last light of the afternoon. 

“You chose a good place to think,” Abe offered. “And this a very fine wine.”

Jamie raised her glass to clink together with his before taking a mouthful of the very fine wine. The wine cellar had been locked, but she'd broken that and found a large room with a wonderful selection of vintage and expensive alcohol, several empty bottles scattered on the glass below the balcony testimony to her experimentation and regular sampling. 

“How will I know if it works?”

“I guess you'll know when you get pregnant,” Abe told her bluntly. 

Jamie winced. “How long do I have to wait to start trying?”

“How soon can you jump Mitch's bones?” Abe retorted, laughing. “Why don't we sleep on it and you can tell me in the morning if you want to have the injections.”

Jamie nodded and the subject was shelved for the night. 

Over breakfast they took their coffee out onto the deck, watching the sunrise over the lake through the veil of a mist rolling down from the heights, the bird song almost deafening as they welcomed the start of another day.

Once the sun was over the ridge, the mist quickly dissipated leaving behind a glorious calm lake and glistening spider's webs hanging among the trees. 

“Do you see many hybrids out this way?” Abe asked, his hands wrapped around his mug to offset the early morning chill in the air. 

“One or two, certainly no herds or packs, just solitary animals passing through. 

“And the rest of the wildlife?”

Jamie smiled. “You want a list? Well, I've seen elk, white-tailed deer, mountain goats, feral goats, rabbits, squirrels, all of them up close for the most part. Without people and hunters, they aren't afraid to come right up to the buildings and graze anywhere they want to. Saw a bear last week, but no cubs. Even heard a distant howl of a wolf one night.”

“What about on the lake?” Abe asked, looking at the water beyond the trees. 

“Lots of different types of ducks, so many I had to get a book out of the lodge library to identify them all. I've also seen swans and geese and wading birds and diving birds. Again, they all seem to be benefiting from not being scared away by people and being hunted. They make for a colorful display.”

“You have become a birdwatcher?” Abe joshed. 

Jamie shrugged. “It passes the time.”

They could hear the call of different birds down on the shoreline, while overhead small flocks of birds swooped down towards the lake to start their day foraging for food.

Abe put down his empty mug. “Have you made your decision?”

Jamie turned to meet his direct look. “Do you trust the science?”

He looked at her, both eyebrows raised. “You doubt it?”

She looked down, frowning. “I don't know how to feel about it. When I was bitten, I didn't ask for the changes, but they happened and I can't revert back. If I go through with this, I'll be choosing to be changed, or whatever this stuff does. It's a sort of red pill-blue bill situation.”

“Would you condemn a couple from trying everything available that they can afford to grant them this opportunity?”

Jamie shook her head. “Would you condemn a woman for choosing to end a pregnancy for reasons only known to her?”

Again, she shook her head. Abe smiled. “Then why condemn yourself by not taking this opportunity for yourself. If there was a surgical option would you take that if offered?”

Jamie looked up at him. “Yes.”

“This is no different. And you can consider yourself a pioneer.”

“How?”

“You will be the first to try this. If it proves successful, we will share it with the world as we have all else. It could prove to be the cure for all manner of illnesses, not least infertility.”

Jamie sent him a wry look. “I'm the guinea pig. Comforting.”

“You are the first to embrace a new world.”

She looked away, staring out at the morning, seeing all the life around them, the feeling of being apart from the cycle of life starting to face, hope seeping in and routing despair. 

“I'll do it.”

Abe had her sit in a comfortable armchair, her feet raised, a battery-operated heart monitor stuck to her chest between her breasts. 

“Try and slow your breathing, Jamie. I am beside you and won't leave you until you ask me to.” He met her eyes, seeing the inevitable fear in them. He tapped the syringe to dislodge any bubbles then infected her in the upper arm, pressing home the plunger. Jamie looked startled.

“What is it?”

“It's cold, it feels like ice going into my arm, I can feel it spreading...”

Abe discarded the syringe and raised his stethoscope to listen to her heart and lungs. The heart monitor started to beep as the beats increased, Jamie clutching at the arms of the chair as the icy cold flush spread to her fingertips, not a painful process but unsettling and unusual. She started to panic, her heart rate spiking, her breathing rapid and shallow. 

“Jamie, you need to calm down, breath slowly, in through the nose, out through the mouth...” He held on to her wrist, feeling her pulse racing.

Jamie was staring straight ahead, completely absorbed in what the serum was doing to her, her eyes stretched wide, the pupils blown. 

“Tell me what you are feeling, Jamie...” Abe asked, seeing her skin flush and ebb in waves of color. She glanced up at him then away.

“It's...like someone...just doused me in....oh, God...ice-cold water.” Her head suddenly pressed back hard, arching her neck as if she was in pain.

“Jamie...”

As he watched, her body stiffened, arms and legs held out straight as she spasmed, then just as suddenly slumped, her heart still racing but her senses lost in a swoon. As Abe watched her skin he saw it flush bright pink then fade to white, doing this several times like a wave washing in and out. The heart monitor ceased its gallop and her pulse steadied, Abe feeling beads of sweat break out on his forehead, fearful that he'd done something awful, that something unexpected was taking place, something he'd never foreseen. Eventually, the hectic color changes slowed down and her breathing evened out as if she was simply asleep. Her pulse and heart rate returned to normal, along with her breathing and he hoped the worst was past, her skin now feeling cool, almost icy. He took her temperature, but it showed it was in the normal body range so he simply covered her with a blanket and sat at her side, waiting for her to wake up. 

Making use of the time, he wrote up all he'd seen after administering the dose, along with the small amount of feedback from Jamie herself. Now there was nothing to do but monitor and take readings and watch over her.

**_ The Silo, Joseph, Oregon. _ **

Mitch sat alone in the communication center. The family was all gone to the various properties around the lake, Abe had not returned from visiting Jamie, and no news as yet. He was watching the latest from the news feeds, what little there was of them. All forms of news, whether on screen in on the net, even hardcopies were being censored by Washington, truth having some difficulty being told beyond the propaganda being spread on the radio, youtube, and Twitter. Services were slowly becoming available to the wider spread communities, but near the cities, it was controlled by a broadcasting and media department that let little slip through. There were other sources, forums, and blogs giving sometimes unvarnished reporting on what was going on, but they were thin on the ground. His access to military channels was still available and gave a more honest view of what was happening on the streets and behind the scenes, the information making for grim reading. Essentially the united states were under martial law with curfews and substantial loss of privacy and personal freedoms. It made him wonder if giving out the news about the potential of the Octopus serum was the best decision. It would have to be widely disseminated so that no government agency could make hidden from public use, the only possible way to make sure was to broadcast it to Europe first, drop it on Asia, Africa, Australasia, and the wider Pacific. Sending the information to every corner of the world first, then America the last. It was one thing to try and hide the information from the populace, it was another to spread it as far and wide as possible so that anyone with a science major could replicate and produce the serum outside the big corporations. Depending on what Abe had to report regarding Jamie's reaction to the serum, would determine how and when to send the information out there. Until then he could only wait and see what developed. 

He was about to get up and go rustle up something to eat when the short wave radio crackled. “Abe to base, come in Mitch?”

He grabbed at the handset. “Mitch here. What's up?”

“Need you to get here as soon as possible. Over.”

“What's happened?”

“I administered the serum this morning, but there have been some interesting side effects. You need to be here. Over.”

“On my way. Base out.”

Barely managing to hang up the handset, his hands shaking, Mitch ran out of the room and headed for his sleeping quarters to pack a bag. Half an hour later and he was packed and heading out, racing down the back road on his way to the southern end of Wallowa Lake, and Jamie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to my readers but a sudden health issue, extended work hours, and Christmas, with attendant family ups and downs, have intruded on the completion of the next chapter. At the rate that life is going, it will not be completed until next year....admittedly only a few weeks away. Until then, Merry Christmas to you all.


End file.
